Home At Last
by SarahtheBardess
Summary: (COMPLETE) Dudley swore at her birth that Helen Dursley would never be a witch, but can he stop his daughter's 11th birthday from happening? R&R if desired! Coming soon: Helen Potter and the Specters of the Past!
1. Parallels

Disclaimer: It's very simple. If you can find it (the character, place, thing, or idea in question) in a book with J.K. Rowling's name on the cover, it's hers. If not, it's mine. Thank you very much.

Chapter 1: Parallels

"Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of Number Four Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much."

It had been true thirty-odd years ago, and it was still true, though the Mr. and Mrs. Dursley who now lived at Number Four Privet Drive were not the same couple who had lived there then. In some respects, though, the families were very similar. The main one was that neither the first or the second generation of Dursleys to live in the house could stand anyone thinking they might be odd or unusual in any way at all.

Vernon and Petunia Dursley had only had one child, their son Dudley, now grown, married, and master of the house. They had now moved to a retirement community, where Vernon played golf and cards and Petunia gossiped and played bingo. However, there had been another child in the household. When Dudley was a year old, his cousin, Petunia's sister's son, had been left on their doorstep, with a letter explaining that he was now an orphan and their responsibility.

For reasons Dudley had never really fathomed, his parents had taken the boy in, and he had lived with them for ten years, until he left for some freak school Dudley could never remember the name of. But something strange was always happening around him... and quite a few times, those strange things had involved Dudley personally...

Oh, Dudley Dursley knew the hazards of having a wizard in the house personally. And he was determined not to let it happen to him. When his wife Marcie had become pregnant, he had worried for nine months. What if the child turned out to be a freak, a wizard or a witch? It had happened to his grandparents.

It turned out that there was more than one child, that Marcie was pregnant with twins, and of course Vernon and Petunia had come to see their grandchildren. They had cooed over little Chester, saying he looked just like his daddy, but one look at Helen and Petunia had gasped "Lily!" and fainted dead away. No explanation was ever forthcoming.

Dudley knew, of course, that his aunt's name had been Lily, and what she had done and been, although it didn't usually bear thinking about. Marcie knew everything as well – he had confessed it all to her before they were married, and she had assured him that she could love him anyway. So that day, the parents of Helen Dursley made a pact that they would keep their daughter under careful control. If she showed any signs of unnatural or even just unusual behavior, they would discipline her immediately and strictly.

Dudley was determined that he would succeed where his parents had failed. Harry Potter might have turned out a wizard, but Helen Dursley would never – _never _– be a witch.


	2. Eleven Years Later

Chapter 2: Eleven Years Later

Dudley Dursley, for no apparent reason, was worried.

His plan, made with his wife eleven years ago, seemed to have worked. His daughter had seemed to exhibit unusual powers for a few years when she was very small, but he and his wife had made sure to punish her right away, and around the age of five, Helen had simply stopped. Almost overnight, she had transformed into a quiet, polite child, who nonetheless avoided her parents as much as she could.

Dudley and Marcie were only too happy to return the favor. As long as Helen wasn't making trouble, it was far easier to forget as much as they could that she existed. Chester, of course, had never given anyone a moment's worry. He was a chip off the old block, strong and healthy, always hungry, and extremely strong-willed, to the point of impressing his will physically on the smaller children in his class. He didn't bother his sister, though. The memories of his teddy bear snarling at him were enough to convince him to leave her alone.

As a matter of fact, no one bothered Helen. She went to school and did her work, then either came home and went immediately to her room, or went to the house of a rather dotty old lady who lived nearby, the one who had always watched Dudley's cousin for his parents when they were small. It was there that she spent most of her time, only coming home at night and sometimes not even then, telephoning over to ask if she could stay the night. Most nights she even had supper there.

It sometimes seemed odd to Dudley that the old lady didn't seem any older than she had when he was a boy, but he knew that children tend to see people as older than they are.

But eleven was a dangerous age. It was on his cousin's eleventh birthday, so long ago, that Dudley had been given a pig's tail by a black-bearded giant. His cousin had been given an acceptance letter to a school Dudley had never heard of, a school for witches and wizards, and had disappeared from his life for all but two months every summer of the next seven years, after which he had disappeared completely. That was the way Dudley liked it. But he couldn't forget that it was the eleventh birthday which was the dangerous one.

If only there was some way of knowing for sure if his daughter was, or was not, a witch...

She had, after all, been given to temper tantrums at the age of three. Dudley had heard it said that someone's screams could shatter glass, but his daughter had shattered not only glass, but dishes – every one in the house. He had carried her up the stairs, still screaming and kicking at him, practically thrown her into her room, and locked the door. She had shrieked in there for another few minutes and thrown things around, creating various slams and bangs, but then there had been an almost miraculous quiet, which had lasted the entire rest of the day. When Marcie had gone up to check on her, Helen had been peacefully asleep on her bed.

Similar things had continued occurring over the next two years, until suddenly, around her fifth birthday, Helen had turned sweet and reasonable all at once. The tantrums were no more, and she went to school and did her work and visited Mrs. Figg on the next block...

Mrs. Figg. Did that have something to do with it? Dudley recalled that Helen had become friends with Mrs. Figg around the time that she stopped throwing tantrums, but he might be mistaken. The woman had lived in their neighborhood for years, after all, she couldn't possibly be involved with anything strange...

Dudley sighed. There would be no way to tell for sure until 13 July. His children's eleventh birthday, only two weeks away now.

How he wished there had only been the one, the son, such a good boy, such a darling...

His reverie was interrupted by the sound of a closing door and footsteps. Too light to be Marcie or Chester, so that left only one person. "Hello, Helen."

"Good afternoon, Father." She always called him Father, or Sir, and Marcie Mother or Ma'am. Never Dad or Mum. Unnatural brat, Dudley thought, feeling the familiar annoyance begin. Doesn't even care about her own parents.

"How was your last day?"

"I enjoyed myself, sir. The teachers gave us all gifts and wished us good luck."

"Where's your report card?"

"Here it is, sir."

Dudley looked it over. As usual, the girl had scored well in everything it was possible to score well in. His lip curled in a sneer. Always currying favor with her teachers, she was, probably hoping to get special favors and special treatment. There'd be no more of that when she went off to Goldenrod Academy...

He handed the paper back to Helen. "Good enough, girl, good enough. Get along with you, now." It would be lovely to have her out of the house at last.

"Thank you, Father." Helen headed for the stairs.


	3. Hopes and Dreams

Chapter 3: Hopes and Dreams

The girl known to most of the world as Helen Dursley sat on her bed and thought about life.

All her teachers, and even the headmistress when she went to the woman's office to say goodbye, had asked her the same question: Where was she going to school next year? And she had given them all the same answer: She didn't know yet, but she would in a few weeks.

It was entirely true. She didn't know, for sure, if she would be accepted into the school that was her heart's desire. But she had an awfully good idea.

She slid off the bed and reached underneath it. This bedroom had once belonged to her dad – her _real_ dad – and he had told her an important and extremely useful secret about it. She used it practically every day.

As far as Helen could tell, there were only two differences between herself and the boy who had once moved into this very room, carrying all his possessions in his arms. She was the blood daughter of the family of the house, rather than a nephew (or, in her case, niece). And she knew what the letters that had been so mysterious to him contained.

Other than that, their cases were practically identical. Both of them were utterly unlike the rest of the family, both in looks and in temperament. Both of them dreamed of something else, something more, something better.

And both of them had an escape coming, though only she knew it.

"13 July." She said the date aloud. It had an almost magical ring to it.

Appropriate, considering her hopes for the day.

She pulled out the cloth bag she had been groping for. Inside were some of her most prized possessions. The robes her mum had sewn for her. The sweater her grandmum had knitted. The joke snacks from two of her favorite uncles (which she had used a few times to get out of truly horrendous tests in school, and once, memorably, to scare Chester almost out of his wits by turning herself momentarily into a bird). The red and gold pennant, embroidered with a roaring lion. And the photograph of the people she considered her _real _family.

Her dad and mum, arms around each other. Her black-haired, teasing older brother, who had turned 12 in January. The red-haired, green-eyed sister born one day before herself, who looked enough like Helen that she, and not Chester, could have been Helen's birth twin. The three littler brothers, aged 9, 7, and 5, and the baby sister, just 4 and adorable. She remembered the feel of little Mary Jane's hand in hers, and the trusting eyes in the round face, and the small voice – "Helen, will you come back again soon? Very soon?"

The people in the photograph were waving up at her. Helen grinned and waved back, knowing that they couldn't see her, but it didn't matter. She'd go to Mrs. Figg's tomorrow, and after they had their tea together, they would go on to the Marauders' Den like they always did, and her family would all be there.

Her mum would be baking something, and her dad might be home from work already, or if he wasn't, he'd be there soon. Jamie and Evan and Ceddie would be chasing each other around on their toy broomsticks, and Mary Jane would come running, and so would Ruby, and they would twirl around in their witch-sister dance, and then Sirius would levitate Mary Jane out of their hands, and she and Ruby would have to tackle him and steal his wand...

It never seemed to change very much. Sometimes the cousins would be there – enormous numbers of red-haired boy cousins who looked very much alike to strangers, but whom Helen could tell apart perfectly, and the slightly less numerous girl cousins, some with red manes, but others with brown curls, or silver-blond locks, or long black tresses, or cornrows.

Her favorite cousins were Brian and Minnie, brother and sister, and children of her parents' two best friends (one of whom was her mother's brother). Red-headed Minnie was just Ruby and Helen's age, and brunet Brian was a year older, already at school and very proud of himself. He and Sirius were inseparable and utterly unpredictable, and their fathers, both Aurors, had already had to threaten to confiscate their wands once this summer.

If the cousins were at the Den, then the aunts and uncles would be as well, and aunts and uncles meant presents and mock duels and impromptu games of Quidditch... and then there were the grandparents, and people the age of grandparents, and that meant stories and more stories, and usually ones that made everyone under the age of 20 laugh and everyone over it but under the storyteller's own age cringe.

She wondered if her parents had ever realized why she went to Mrs. Figg's house. She knew perfectly well that they didn't know about Mrs. Figg's special place in the world, or her connections, or they would have stopped her from going long ago. But she couldn't help wondering. Didn't _they_ ever wonder? Didn't they ever stop to think why their little daughter, at five years old, had taken such a shine to an elderly neighbor?

Maybe they didn't. Maybe they were just grateful it kept her out of the house. She knew they were happier without her there. She was happiest when she wasn't there as well. So what she and her family were planning to do would make everyone happier.

She hoped.


	4. A Letter Arrives

(A/N: Thanks for the responses, everyone. Glad you like it.

Nalini213: You are entirely correct (in all ways, wink wink). Thank you for catching that. Blame my roommate – she was breathing down my neck while I finished the chapter b/c she has an 8 o'clock class and it happened to be 2 in the morning... I need to find new times to write.

gallandro-83: Yes, I am very new... thanks for the tips!

maz: Will do.

Everyone: You may wish to reread chapter 3, as a few names have changed... sorry for not fixing this before I posted... and speaking of names, I have a challenge for you, readers. All the names of Helen's wizarding siblings and cousins have canon significance (they were all named after someone we know). Can you figure them all out? Warning, a few are tricky, but they are all within the bounds of reason, I think. First reviewer to correctly identify them all wins the prize – I will name an upcoming character whatever you would like... just remember it's G-rated, people.

That's all for now; enjoy the new chapter!

P.S. Disclaimer now posted in chapter 1.)

Chapter 4: A Letter Arrives

30 June was a warm, slightly overcast day, with a heavy feeling of oncoming rain in the air. Dudley followed his son down the stairs into the kitchen. Helen had just turned the bacon out of the pan and was cracking in eggs. Marcie was reading the newspaper.

"Mail's in, dear, and there's something for you," was all she said, but the look she gave him was filled with meaning. He sat down casually and picked up the envelope she slid towards him.

The envelope bore the insignia of Goldenrod Academy, and it was heavy in his hand. Quickly, Dudley tore it open and began to read the cover letter.

_Dear Mr. Dursley:_

_We would be delighted to take your daughter, Helen, here at Goldenrod. Please call as soon as possible to confirm her place in our next class. _

_We have a summer program which you may be interested in, valuable for accustoming children to our unique code of rules. It begins this year on 28 June, but children will be accepted as late as 12 July. Call this number for more information..._

Dudley closed his eyes and exhaled a long sigh of pure happiness.

"Well?" demanded Marcie. "Can they take her or not?"

At the stove, Helen stiffened.

"Oh, they can take her," Dudley answered, watching the girl out of the corner of his eye. "What's more, they can take her starting today. They've a summer program, apparently. Should we spring for it?"

"Yes," said Marcie firmly. "It'll be well worth it."

Dudley nodded and turned to his daughter, who was scraping the last of the eggs out of the frying pan onto her brother's plate. "Helen."

She put the pan down on a cold burner and turned to face him. "Yes, sir."

"Your mother and I have decided on a school for you for next year."

"A school for me?" The girl actually had the nerve to look surprised.

"Yes, girl, a school for you. You can't get by in life on just a primary school education. Go and pack your things. We're leaving as soon as you're ready."

Helen had gone so pale that her freckles stood out plainly. "T-today, sir?" she stammered in a voice very unlike her own.

"Yes, today. They have a summer program to help you get adjusted to the school before you have to start classes. This way you'll be all settled in and used to their routine when fall comes. Is there a problem?"

Helen's hands were clenched on a corner of her shirt. She was twisting the hem so hard Dudley wouldn't have been surprised to see her rip it off. "No, sir," she said quietly, looking fixedly at her hands.

"Well, then, go. You have a lot of packing to do, I'm sure."

"Yes... yes, sir." Helen looked at him for a split second with a very odd expression on her face, then abruptly bolted for the stairs.

"Wait!" Chester yelled, but Helen was already gone. He groaned. "Mum, can you hand me over my breakfast?"

"Certainly, dear," said Marcie, getting up and handing the loaded plate to her son. She beckoned Dudley to follow her into the living room.

"Should we watch her?" she asked as soon as they were out of Chester's earshot. "Make sure she's packing?"

"Why bother? We can check on her in an hour and see if she's ready. If she was... one of _them_... she would have done something, wouldn't she?" Dudley was feeling unbelievably cheerful. Even if his daughter wasn't a witch, she was a cursed nuisance, and now she was going to be gone from their lives for a whole year. It was like a dream come true.

"She might be trying to trick us. You said they were sly; she's always been secretive, you know that. What if she's up in her room doing something... something nasty?"

"They're not allowed. They get in trouble if they do _that _outside their school. And she won't ever get there, Marcie, don't you see?" Dudley wanted to jump in the air – he had solved a problem that his father had been unable to solve. "If we send her away to Goldenrod, by the time that letter comes, if it ever does, there won't be anyone here to give it to. And they'll never find her there. Great pile of a place, and all the student dormitories are on the inside of the building."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"If it hasn't got any windows, how is the..." Dudley mimed a bird flapping. "... going to get in, eh?"

Marcie giggled. "It might try to fly through a wall. Didn't you say they tried to fly through closed windows a few times?"

Dudley snickered, remembering. "Not much room for brains up there in that feathery head."

Marcie shook her own head. "Crazy way to send letters, anyway. I mean, what if the creature were to eat it?"

"What's to stop it from dropping the letter and hunting?" Dudley agreed. "But, of course, nothing they do makes sense. Never has."

"It always frightened me." Marcie shivered. "Freakish people who pop out of thin air. Little sticks of wood that do things that shouldn't be possible."

"I'm sorry, Marcie." Dudley put his arm around his wife. "I should never have gotten you into this."

Marcie smiled tremulously and shook her head. "No, you told me the truth up front. It was my decision. And remember what we swore all those years ago? I think we've done it, Dudley. I think we've won."


	5. A Letter is Sent

(Reviewer responses:

Nalini213: I'm guessing you're someone's little sib... you have that "tell me what happens next NOW" attitude. J/k. In order: You'll find out, you'll find out, and yes... just wait a little while. Think about (a) obvious people to name a child after and (b) nicknames and reverses. I'm not going to give it to you just yet.

Gallandro-83: Fellow Dudley manipulation lover! Sorry, Dudley's a step ahead at this point... but read on ... with his handicap, as you noted, he's unlikely to be there for long. As to your last note, remember the prime motivation of the Dursleys... never be unusual in ANY way... child abuse is kind of out there, at least if anyone finds out about it.

Enjoy the whole new-chapter-every-day thing while you can... it won't last.)

Chapter 5: A Letter is Sent

Helen flung herself onto her bed, sobbing. She snatched a pillow, buried her face in it, and screamed.

_They can't do this to me! Not now! I've been waiting more than half my life for my chance to get out of here, they can't DO this!_

_But they are._

That stark thought snapped Helen back to reality. Years of training took over. She forced the anger and panic down, down, reaching for some kind of serenity, even a temporary one. Staying angry was dangerous. She might do magic without meaning to, and that would get her in three-way trouble – trouble with her birth family, trouble with magical authorities, and trouble with her real family.

She thought of her dad's favorite example of accidental magic brought on by anger. When he was only two years older than she was now, her grandfather's sister, a truly hideous woman, had made the mistake of criticizing his parents to his face once too often. He had blown her up like a balloon – and with the image of the horrid woman, whom Helen had often seen in old family pictures, inflating like a beach ball, Helen had to laugh, and her anger began to dissipate.

She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. _I have to relax. I have to breathe. I have to..._

Something tugged gently at her hair. Helen yelped and rolled off the bed, landing hard on her back, winding herself for a moment. Hedwig stuck her white head over the edge of the bed and hooted apologetically.

In between gasps, Helen laughed. "'Salright... Hedwig..." She got herself a little more under control and sat on the bed beside the owl, caressing her soft head feathers. "I've never been so glad to see you." Hedwig extended her leg, and Helen undid the note. "Hang around a minute, OK? I have something to go back."

It was addressed to her in her dad's familiar tall writing, and she ripped it open eagerly.

_Dear Helen,_

_Less than two weeks to go! Hope you're holding out all right. It would be just like Dudley to spring something on you at the last minute, even if he doesn't know it's the last minute. He always was a little slow on the uptake. Have he and your mother started whispering when you come into the room yet?_

Helen sighed. "And you claim you failed Divination," she said to the letter.

_Everyone here sends their love. Ruby especially. She and your mum are planning one incredible birthday party, but you didn't hear that from me. Your Uncles Fred and George have been called in as consultants for party games – I'm just hoping the roof stays on the house this time – and your grandmum will be cooking for us. _

Helen laughed. She remembered the party – Brian's ninth birthday, it had been – when the twin uncles had gone a trifle overboard with the Weasley Wildfire Birthday Candles. Aunt Mynie had been furious when her oldest son's birthday cake had blasted a hole through her roof.

_Ruby says to tell you she'll save her letter to open it with you when yours comes. Minnie's came two days ago and she couldn't wait. Hope you don't mind. _

_It's been a long six years, sweetie, but it's almost over. Write back soon._

_Love from Dad_

Helen smiled and stroked Hedwig's head again. Six years since she had chosen her family, eight since they had met...

But this wasn't the time for reminiscing. She had a letter to write.

She ripped a sheet of paper off her pad and grabbed a pen.

_Dear Dad and everyone,_

_Thanks for the letter. As a matter of fact, they have sprung something on me – they're sending me away to summer school at the boarding school they've picked for me. I'm leaving now, as in today, as soon as I'm packed. Father didn't give a name for this place, but how many schools for incurably criminal girls can there be?_

She grinned. Her dad would enjoy that.

_I hope this doesn't mess up any plans._

_Please come find me as soon as you can. _

_Love always, Helen_

She folded the note, addressed it with her dad's name, and held it out to Hedwig, who gave Helen's fingers a gentle nip of affection before she took it. Helen lifted Hedwig gently and tossed her out the window to give her a flying start – the owl wasn't as young as she used to be.

Then Helen got down to packing. Her panic was trying to creep back in, but she shoved it firmly back down where it belonged.

_They can't send me anywhere that my family can't find me. Dad and Uncle Ron and Aunt Mynie are Aurors – they specialize in finding people who _don't_ want to be found. How much harder can it be to find me – someone who really wants to be found?_

She smiled to herself. _I think when I get there I'm going to have a monumental loss of control. Make things fly around, smash stuff, maybe even make something explode. Light bulbs might be good._

She burrowed under the bed and yanked up the loose floorboard, pulling out her secret bag. After a moment's vacillation, she put the floorboard back.

_After all, if Chester has children someday, one of _them_ might turn out magical. _

The bag went into the very bottom of her old, battered duffel, after she had extracted an important item and left it where it would do some good. She folded clothes into the duffel next, sticking in a few books that were old friends, and finally her stuffed lion on the very top. She smiled and petted Griffy. He had been a christening gift, supposedly from Mrs. Figg, in actuality from her real parents, although they hadn't been her real parents then...

Someone banged on her door. Hastily, Helen zipped the duffel shut. "Come in!"

Her father opened the door and frowned down at her. "Ready, are you?" He looked as if he had expected to find the room in shambles.

"Yes, sir."

"Come on, then. We haven't got all day."

Helen took one last look around her bedroom. _I will probably never see this room again... and I can't say I'm sorry about it._

Similar thoughts ran through her head all the way down the stairs. _I will never see these ugly walls or this ugly kitchen again... _She said polite good-byes to her mother and Chester, though inwardly she was cheering.

Once her father had steered the car onto the main road, Helen let her head lean against the window, and remembered...


	6. Remembering

Chapter 6: Remembering

She was very small, probably about three. Small enough to be carried, at any rate. She was kicking the side wall of the staircase as her father carried her upstairs under his arm, and she was shrieking as loudly as she could.

He reached the top of the stairs, opened her door, and dropped her on the floor inside the room. "Things should not _fly around_ when you are angry," he growled at her. "You will stay in your room until you learn to stop doing such... unnatural... things." The door slammed shut, and she heard the lock click outside.

Panting, Helen turned around and ran to her bookshelf. She flung a book across the room, screaming, and the rest of the books flew after it. She kept shrieking, and the books kept flying, until she had to stop for breath – and then there were two loud slamming noises behind her. Helen whirled around and stared in surprise. The books fell to the floor.

There were people in her room. Grown-up people. A man and a woman.

The woman dropped to one knee and spread her arms open. Helen had never seen anyone do this for her before, but she knew what to do anyway. She ran straight to the woman and was engulfed in her first ever hug.

The woman had a lot of red hair. It tickled Helen's nose, but she hung on anyway. She even hung on, though she was a little surprised, when the woman scooped her up from the ground and carried her to the bed, where she sat down with Helen on her lap. The man sat on the other side of the bed, and Helen looked at him curiously. He had black hair and glasses.

"Hello, Helen," he said, smiling at her. "I'm your cousin Harry, did you know that?"

She shook her head and sniffled a little. "What's a cousin?"

The woman hugged her a little tighter. "Poor thing," Helen could hear her saying, "you poor thing." She didn't quite understand – her dad and mum were always saying how lucky her family was _not_ to be poor – but she didn't care what the woman said as long as she kept hugging her.

"Well, then, you can call me Uncle Harry, and this is your Aunt Ginny. You know what that means, right?"

She nodded. "I have an Aunt Angela and an Uncle Matt. They come and visit sometimes. They never bring me presents." She sniffled again. "They bring Chester lots of presents."

Uncle Harry muttered something under his breath, then pulled a tissue out of the box on her bedside table. "Blow. Do your aunt and uncle have any children?"

"No." Helen blew her nose and snuggled into a more comfortable position on her aunt's lap. Uncle Harry crumpled the tissue and tossed it into the rubbish bin.

"If they had children, those children would be your cousins," said Aunt Ginny.

Helen could feel her aunt's voice vibrating through her body. She liked the feeling. "Do you have children?"

"Yes. We have two little boys and a little girl. How old are you, Helen?"

Helen held up three fingers. "This many."

"Our little girl Ruby is just your age," said Uncle Harry. "She has a baby brother named Jamie and a big brother named Sirius."

"No twins?"

Aunt Ginny laughed. "No twins, not yet at least. You can be Ruby's twin if you want. You look a lot like her. Do you want to meet her?"

Helen nodded eagerly.

"All right," said Uncle Harry, pulling a newspaper out of his pocket. "Hold on to this tight, now, Helen. It'll feel funny for a minute – like someone was pulling on your tummy – " He tickled her, and she giggled. "– but then we'll all fall down, and we'll be in my house."

"Like magic?"

Her uncle smiled at her and rubbed her hair affectionately. "Yes, Helen. Very much like magic."

**----**

It was no surprise, thought the present-day Helen, that she had fallen in love with the Potters so easily. They had been the first people to show her love.

**----**

She spent two blissful hours, that first day, at the house she now knew as the Marauders' Den, making friends with Ruby, being a little afraid of Sirius, and watching Jamie with awe. She had never been close to a real live baby before. He could almost walk, but not quite, and she and Ruby laughed and laughed to see the indignant look on his face as time after time, he tried, and time after time, he fell smack on his nappied bottom.

Her dad – Uncle Harry, as she had called him then – put a minor charm on her before he took her home by Portkey. It ensured she wouldn't tell anyone about the Potters and their visit. Dudley Dursley knew enough to get suspicious if his daughter started babbling about a magical aunt and uncle, and the story was liable to get back to him eventually if she told a teacher or some other child.

Helen didn't mind at all. She would put up with anything as long as she was able to keep her magical family.

**----**

Helen smiled ruefully. _Then there was the period when I thought I had to throw a tantrum to get them to come and get me... Dad just needed to explain it to me, and give me a little scolding to make it stick, and I got over that right smart._

_Funny, though, how I still kept losing it and making magic happen until I was five. I guess even being happy part of the time wasn't enough._

**----**

Over the next two years, Helen met the rest of her new family. It seemed that every time Uncle Harry came to get her, somebody new was at the Den for her to meet them. There were a _lot _of red-haired uncles. Aunt Ginny's parents told her to call them Grandmum and Granddad, the way Sirius and Ruby did.

Helen was always a little in awe of Sirius, who was bigger and stronger than she was. She was used to Chester, who was her size but flabbier, and who yelled if she hit him. If she hit Sirius, he hit back, and he hit hard. It was Sirius who taught Helen how to fight.

Ruby and Helen played endless games of tea party with Ruby's enchanted tea set and taught Jamie how to walk. They also began to finish one another's sentences. Soon afterwards, they discovered that their fourth birthdays were only one day apart. They immediately pestered Ruby's parents for a joint party. The answer, to the delight of all, was yes.

It was at the party that Helen met some of Uncle Harry's friends, who all told her to call them Aunt and Uncle as well, and their children, who all became her friends immediately. There was a glorious game of toy broomstick tag that lasted about an hour, until Brian and Sirius, practicing to be Quidditch players, crashed into each other, and Uncle Fred told Uncle Harry that if Ruby and Helen weren't real twins, then he didn't know real twins. At least, she thought it was Uncle Fred. It could have been Uncle George.

**----**

Helen roused from her daze. Her father was speaking to her.

"I want you to understand something, girl. This place is tough. There'll be no funny business, understand? I don't want you thinking we'll take you away if you make trouble, because we won't. You're there for at least a year. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," Helen mumbled, thinking of Hedwig and the letter making its way toward the Marauders' Den.

"Good." Her father kept driving, and Helen's mind returned to the past...

**----**

(A/N: Wow. Two in one day. I must be nuts.

Nalini213: I didn't mention this before – great job!

There may be more chapters in the next few days, as I have relatively little work at the moment... but don't set your hearts on anything.

And I would, of course, love more readers and reviewers... tell your friends!)


	7. The Word for It

(A/N: Reviews everywhere! And... they're all raves...

I MUST BE DREAMING!

::pinches self, doesn't wake up, squeals with joy::

Reviewer responses:

Tanydwr: Thanks – is this soon enough?

sarah: Your parents too, huh? "But we thought it would be unusual..." Thanks. I will if you will!

Pyro44: Nice work. Keep thinking, and check chapters 8 and 9 for more names! Nalini213, you too!

Lexapendragon: Ummm... thanks... I don't think I've ever been complimented quite like that before.

CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur: Nice name. And thank you. But remember, Dudley is a moron... he never figures anything out...

Lady Cinnibar: BA in English, eh? I'm not challenging you to a write-off any time soon... Mercedes Lackey fan by any chance?

chubby redburn: In case you read this, thanks, for both the compliment and the sympathy.

Everyone: Thank you a million times!!! My self-esteem is higher than it has ever been! As you can probably tell by the fact that I have written three chapters tonight!

Enjoy!)

Chapter 7: The Word for It

Something in the offhand comment stayed in Helen's mind, newly four years old though she was. "Helen and Ruby are real twins, Harry, or I don't know real twins," one of her uncles had said. She wasn't sure if it was Uncle Fred or Uncle George. They looked so much alike.

She and Ruby looked a lot alike too, but she knew they weren't twins. She and Chester were twins. But she didn't like Chester, and she did like Ruby. Chester was a wimp. He cried if she hit him, even if he had hit her first. And he never shared his toys with her the way Ruby and even Sirius did.

Thoughts like these continued to develop in Helen's mind through the next year. It was an eventful one. She started nursery school, which her mother had insisted on "to get the blasted girl out of the house". She probably would have made more friends if she hadn't had the stigma of being the mean Dursley boy's sister. Chester was well known for his habit of pushing down anyone smaller than him who got in his way. Since he took after his father, there wasn't anyone larger than him in the class, so he got the reputation of a bully, and Helen got the fallout.

Helen learned to read with a speed that astonished the teachers, since she told them (truthfully) that her parents didn't read with her. Of course, thanks to Harry's protective charm, she couldn't tell them about the hours she spent at the Marauders' Den listening to stories and more stories, usually snuggled beside Aunt Ginny and watching the words in the book with fascination, with Ruby cuddled next to her, Sirius on his mum's other side, and Jamie on her lap.

Aunt Ginny's lap was getting smaller, Helen noticed around Halloween. In the first week of November, Uncle Harry put Helen and Ruby through a series of measurements, confirming that they were the same height and had the same size almost everything else, except that Helen was a little skinnier than Ruby. "I think these are big enough to sell, now, Ginny," he teased. "After all, we have another one coming to replace them."

"Another baby?" Ruby squealed. "Can this one be another sister, Daddy, please, please?"

"No!" shouted Sirius. "Two sisters is enough!"

Ruby stuck out her tongue at him.

Helen, jumping up and down with excitement, noticed Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny glance at each other with a funny look on their faces.

-----

_Of course they looked funny. Anyone would look funny if they'd just figured out that they thought of someone else's child as their own, and they were being so obvious about it that their own children had picked it up._

Helen smiled dreamily. _And then Christmas, my first Christmas at the Den... They left me home the first year, they wanted to give the Dursleys every chance they could, but when it was pretty obvious the Dursleys weren't going to bother about me again that year, Mum and Dad didn't have much compunction about smuggling me out._

_We were lucky, for one – the Dursleys always sleep late on Christmas morning. Even presents can't wake Chester up when he doesn't want to be woken, and that was all to the good, it meant I could stay the night and be back before they ever knew I was gone..._

-----

Everyone came to the Marauders' Den for Christmas, since it was the biggest house of any in the family. Helen got to meet the last of the relatives and friends who hadn't been able to come to her birthday party. She loved the story Grandpap Hagrid told about the first time he'd met her father and Uncle Harry. She could just imagine her father, or Chester, with a pink pig's tail.

Aunt Fleur taught the children Christmas carols, even some in French, which Helen thought was really neat. You got to make sounds through your nose. Aunt Fleur and Uncle Bill's children, Max and Mollie, could speak French, and they taught their cousins a few phrases.

Helen was fascinated with the idea of another language. She had heard her father talking about foreigners and weirdos, but she had never understood what a foreigner was. Now she did. But something confused her. Aunt Fleur was a foreigner – she came from France – but she wasn't mean or bad, and she wasn't trying to take over the country.

She tried to ask her father about it a little after New Year's, but was confused when something stopped her from saying anything about Aunt Fleur. She finally settled for just asking if foreigners were all bad.

"The only person who would think a foreigner was good was another foreigner," her father said. "Or someone strange, a little loopy. Not quite right up top." He looked at his daughter sharply. "Why'd you want to know, girl?"

"I just did. Thank you, Daddy."

Helen's confusion lasted for three days, until the next time Aunt Ginny came to take her to the Den. She seized the opportunity and asked the same question.

"No, of course not. Why would you think – _oh_." Aunt Ginny hugged Helen, a little off to the side, as front-on hugging was somewhat hard these days. "Sweetheart, your father's just confused. He's never known anyone from another country who was nice."

"Like Aunt Fleur?"

"Yes. Like Aunt Fleur and Aunt Gabrielle. They're not bad, are they?"

Aunt Gabrielle was Aunt Fleur's sister. She had made two batches of Christmas cookie dough, one to bake and the other for the children (and the adults) to eat raw. "No."

"So, not all foreigners are bad. See?"

Helen nodded.

"Good. Now come on, let's go, unless you don't want to go sledding with Ruby today."

Winter passed pleasantly. In April, baby Evan was born. Sirius and Jamie stole all of Ruby and Helen's dolls to celebrate. Helen and Ruby retaliated by stealing the boys' clothes, so they had to come to breakfast in their underwear.

Then, near the beginning of June, Helen discovered something that would change her life.

Her teacher read their class a book about adopted children.

As she listened, Helen realized that she had never quite understood what Uncle Harry and Aunt Ginny had done for her. Now she knew the word for it. They had adopted her, even if she was still living with what the book called her "birth family".

She began to think about her place in the world more seriously. The children in the book called their adopted parents "Dad" and "Mum", the way other kids did. _Why don't I do that?_ She knew she already had a dad and a mum, but somehow they were different than other kids' parents. Obviously, or she would never have been adopted by the Potters.

She decided to ask about it.

-----

"Helen."

She jumped. Her father's voice was unwelcome under any circumstances, and especially when she had just been thinking of her real family. _I hope they come soon._ "Yes, sir?"

"We'll be there in five minutes. I want you awake."

"Yes, sir." Helen rolled her shoulders, stretching her neck.

_I was not quite five. It was a warm summer day..._


	8. Adoption

(A/N: OK. This is the chapter that prompted the ratings boost. Nothing terrible happens, but it is a little scary... never mind, just read it.)

Chapter 8: Adoption

"Uncle Harry, am I adopted?"

"What?"

"Am I adopted? Did you and Aunt Ginny adopt me? And can I please come live here with you and be a Potter and call you Dad and Mum, please, pretty please?"

Uncle Harry looked pretty surprised. Helen tried hard not to giggle.

"Those are some good questions, Helen," he said slowly. "Why don't we talk about that, you and me. What do you know about being adopted?"

Helen told him all about the book at school, and how the kids in the book went to live with families who wanted them and got to call their new parents Mum and Dad and use their new family's last name.

"And I thought of something else. My dad and mum – the ones I have now..." Helen hesitated.

Uncle Harry seemed to understand. "You can call them your father and your mother, Helen. That's polite, and it will help us keep things straight."

"Okay. My father and my mother... they... I don't think they like me. They like Chester a whole lot, but not me. Am I..." She sniffled. It was kind of hard to ask. "Am I that bad?"

"_No,_" Uncle Harry said very fiercely, and then Helen was being hugged, and she found out she was crying. "No, Helen, you are not bad. Not at all. Your father and mother are the bad ones, for not loving you the way you deserve to be loved."

Helen gulped. "Do you love me, then?"

"More than anything," was the answer, and that set off a fresh wave of tears. Uncle Harry carried her out of his study and into the kitchen and sat down at the table.

"Ginny," he announced, "we're adopting Helen. From this day forward, she is Helen Potter, and I am her dad, and you are her mum."

Aunt Ginny was kneading bread dough. She turned around, dusting her hands off, and smiled at Helen. "I was wondering when we'd get around to it."

She came over and sat in a chair next to Harry and Helen. "It will have to be a secret for a while, sweetheart. You'll still live with the Dursleys, and everybody else will still call you Helen Dursley. But you will know that your real name is Helen Potter, and we're your real dad and mum, and someday you will come to live here."

Helen sniffled and smiled. "Does that make Ruby my really-and-truly twin?"

"Yes. Ruby is your really-and-truly twin now," said her mum, while her dad stroked her hair.

Helen considered this. "Uncle Fred was right, then," she said finally, and her mum and dad laughed.

They never did tell her why.

-----

_And I never called the Dursleys "Mum" or "Dad" again. It would have been rude to my real parents. _

_Though I did throw a tantrum when I found out I'd have to be eleven before I could leave. But then Mum and Dad told me Mrs. Figg could be my friend, and she would take me to their house any time I liked... thank goodness for her. At first I only liked her because of where she could take me, but in the past few years I've started liking her for herself..._

The car stopped. Helen gave a little shiver, pulling herself out of her memories.

"Here we are, girl." Her father smiled broadly and waved her out of the car. She got out, pulled her duffel out of the back seat, and got a good look at her new home.

The first thing she thought of was Hogwarts; the second thing, a prison.

It looked oddly like a combination of the two. It was huge and rambling and built of stone, but there were no towers here, and no grounds with inviting green grass and a lake and a Forbidden Forest. No, this place was fenced in, with blacktop all around it and only the occasional weed furtively trying to grow in a crack. This made the name emblazoned above the door seem rather ridiculous.

_Goldenrod Academy. Why Goldenrod, I wonder?_

Her father led the way up the front stairs, telling the man standing beside the door his name and hers, and that she was a new student, and he punched a code into a keypad and let them in. Helen noticed a security camera mounted above the door, and she had a shivery feeling that the man was a guard.

_What kind of boarding school has guards at the doors?_

The joke in her letter to her dad about a school for incurably criminal girls was feeling less funny all the time. Helen clutched her duffel close, feeling the familiar shape of Griffy in the top of it and her secret bag at the bottom. Her father kept checking the letter in his hand.

"Main hallway to the stairs, up one flight, third door on the left," he mumbled. Helen followed him up the stairs, stealing a glance at her wristwatch, a gift from Sirius two birthdays ago. The Dursleys had never even noticed that she had it.

It was about 11:45. She remembered launching Hedwig around 10:00 and leaving the house with her father just after 11. So this place, Goldenrod Academy, couldn't be more than a half-hour away from her house. She realized, too late, that she should have paid attention to how to get there.

_It doesn't matter. I'm here now anyway. And they will find me. They will. They have to._

She was so lost in thought that she bumped into her father when he stopped abruptly. "Watch where you're going," he growled before knocking on the door marked _Headmaster_.

It was flung open so abruptly that Helen took an involuntary step back. "Ah, welcome, welcome," said the man standing in the doorway. "Mr. Dursley, is that correct? And your little girl Helen. How are you."

He went on without giving her a chance to answer, which was just as well, since Helen knew she was unlikely to be able to say anything polite at the moment. "The tuition is all in order, Mr. Dursley, everything's finished. I just need your signature on a few things, if you would care to step in..."

Helen sat numbly on the edge of a chair and listened to her father arranging her life for the next year. She was to have as few privileges as possible, they were authorized to use any and all reasonable punishments if she misbehaved... The word "visitors" caught her attention.

"Is this correct, Mr. Dursley? Your wishes are that no one comes to see Helen, not even you or your family?"

"My family has been mixed up with some... strange characters over the years, Mr. Lutch. People expert in, shall we say, unusual activities. Quite possibly criminals. It would be entirely possible for one of them to counterfeit my face, even my voice, so well that you couldn't tell the difference between me and him if we were standing in front of you together. They also have a rather nasty habit of stealing eleven-year-old children. I intend to keep Helen from being stolen. At all costs."

"A worthy sentiment, Mr. Dursley. And thank you so much for choosing the fine institution of Goldenrod as a place in which to keep your lovely daughter safe."

They shook hands. Her father turned to her.

"See you in a year," he said. She nodded.

_No,_ she said in her mind. _I will never see you again. _

_And I never want to._

Dudley Dursley walked out of the office, and, Helen hoped fervently, out of her life.

The headmaster cleared his throat. Helen started and looked at him.

"Helen Dursley," he said, shuffling through a stack of papers on his desk. "Quite a life you've had, or so your father tells me."

_You ain't seen nothing yet_, Helen's irreverent side volunteered.

"But everything will be different, now." He smiled. It was not friendly, warm, or anything a smile should be. "Welcome to Goldenrod Academy, where the rod – " He gestured toward the corner of the room. "– is indeed golden."

Helen looked and swallowed hard. There were sticks piled in the corner. Sticks that could only have one purpose.

One thing even the Dursleys had never done was hit her.

_Oh no. Dad, Mum, everyone, please, find me soon!_

In the distance, church bells chimed twelve o'clock.


	9. At the Den

(A/N: Here it is, the chapter you've all been waiting for... Harry's here, in present-day storyland!

It was supposed to be Chapter 7, but a few things interfered... like two chapters of Helen's background story. It's a touch longer than the others so far... I'm sure my adoring fans won't mind. ::big grin:: And there are more names here for those of you going name-hunting. Enjoy!)

Chapter 9: At the Den

The fireplace at the Marauders' Den must always be tired, Harry thought whimsically. It certainly handled a high level of traffic. But he had known he was in for a lot of visits when he married into a family with seven children...

The clock in the living room began to chime twelve, and Ginny came hurrying out of the kitchen, dusting off her hands, just as the fire turned green.

Ron emerged from the flames first, carrying Frankie, his youngest son. Brian, Minnie, Art, and the twins Fabian and Gideon followed their father with no trouble. Little Alice, older than Frankie by just a year, had to be caught as she spun out of the fireplace dizzily. Hermione climbed out last, with baby Marlene in her arms.

"Finally outdid your parents, mate," Harry said, watching the children run off in search of their favorite playmates. "Congratulations."

"Oh, shut up," said Hermione, smacking him playfully on the head with the arm that wasn't full of baby. "You're about to equal them, aren't you?"

"Well, you're still ahead of us by one," said Ginny, holding out her arms for Marlene.

"And going to remain that way, I hope?" said Harry, startled.

"Yes, of course." Ginny winked at Ron and Hermione.

"I saw that," said Harry.

"You were supposed to," Hermione snapped.

Behind Hermione's back, Ron rolled his eyes and shrugged, mouthing "Women..." Harry grinned at him.

"Oy, Dad." Sirius strolled into the kitchen, Hedwig on his shoulder and Brian beside him. "Owl from Helen. Do you want to read it now, or should I stick it on your desk?"

"That was quick," Harry said, surprised. He had sent Hedwig off early that morning, and he knew it was around a two hour flight to the Dursleys'. Helen must have sent Hedwig straight back. "Might as well read it now."

He held out his arm. Hedwig flew to him, and he untied the note from her leg and opened it.

_Dear Dad and everyone,_

_Thanks for the letter. As a matter of fact, they have sprung something on me – they're sending me away... _

Harry groped for a chair and slowly sat down, still reading.

_Please come find me as soon as you can. _

_Love always, Helen_

"No," Harry whispered, his mind racing. _No. Not again. Not her. They ruined the first part of my life; they can't ruin Helen's too!_

He realized the kitchen had gone silent, and looked up from the letter to find everyone staring at him.

"What's wrong?" Ginny asked. Wordlessly, Harry handed her the letter. She passed Marlene to Brian, looked it over carefully, scowled, and gave it to Ron. Hermione read over Ron's shoulder, or rather, around his elbow.

"What's up with Helen?" Brian asked, jiggling his baby sister carefully in his arms.

"The Dursleys are sending her to boarding school somewhere. Now, today." Harry was surprised at how matter-of-fact his voice sounded, when inwardly he felt like a cauldron filled with Perturbing Potion. His sweet little girl, the other half of his twins... how could even Dudley fail to love her as she deserved to be loved?

"They can't do that," said Sirius, and Harry looked up at the outrage in his son's voice. "They can't do that. She belongs here, with us. She's ours." Brian nodded vigorously in agreement.

"She's still theirs by law, Sirius," said Ginny quietly.

"Then the law is stupid," Brian said vehemently. Marlene awoke and began to fuss. Hermione absently took her and began to soothe her.

"Agreed," said Ron, looking up from the letter. "Poor thing... she's putting a brave face on it, though." He looked back down and snorted. "Schools for incurably criminal girls? If Helen's a criminal, I'll eat my wand. Harry, didn't the Dursleys used to claim they were sending you to some school for..."

"Incurably criminal boys. I'm hoping Helen is making a joke on that, rather than being serious about it."

"I'm sure she is," Ginny said, but she didn't sound sure. "Even Dudley couldn't make it look like Helen's ever done anything wrong, except those tantrums when she was little."

"You would be surprised," Harry said grimly. "Dudley is very good at coming up with stories about what other people have done wrong. Always has been."

Ron growled slightly. Ginny hissed low in her throat, much as she did when she was in her Animagus form and wary of something. They looked very much alike at this moment – red-haired, freckled, and incredibly dangerous.

Hermione looked up from Marlene, now sleeping peacefully again. Harry was startled by the look on her face. He hadn't seen her like this since their school days, when Voldemort was alive, the Death Eaters were active, and everyone was in danger, all the time. Her eyes were on fire, her shoulders were set, and Harry wouldn't have cared to be the one to cross her at that moment.

"I believe," she said with elaborate care, "that it may be time to pay the Dursleys a little visit. Who's with me?"

"_I,_" said Ginny and Ron, forcefully, at the same moment.

Harry grinned at her. "You took the words out of my mouth, Hermione."

Brian and Sirius stared at their parents in surprise and admiration.

"But we need to move slowly." Harry looked at his son and felt a flash of the grief that had never entirely faded. "Helen's in no real danger – yet – I hope. We need to find out where she is, first, and for that, we need two things. We need a plan, and we need backup."

-----

Thirty minutes and a lot of Floo Powder later, the backup began to assemble.

Arthur and Molly Weasley were the first to arrive, followed closely by Remus Lupin and Minerva McGonagall. Bill and Fleur were the next, because their children were old enough to be trusted to watch one another. The rest of the Weasley clan, other than Charlie who was still unmarried (he claimed he was married to his work), took a little longer, because they had to find babysitters or round up their children and bring them along.

Arabella Figg came by Floo to baby-sit the fourteen small Weasleys and Potters already at the Marauders' Den. No sooner was she out of the fire than Percy and Penelope appeared in it with their three children, Selene, Dorcas, and Vic, who went off to join the others. Finally, Fred, George, Angelina, and Alicia Apparated in the corner of the kitchen. The twins were wearing their trademark evil grins and carrying bags that bulged interestingly.

"A few old and a few new items," Fred said, placing his carefully on the table.

"Your cousin has a good record as a tester for our products, Harry," said George, "so we thought maybe you wouldn't mind."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Just tell me what they're supposed to do _before_ you set them off, all right?" He raised his voice. "Everyone?" The room quieted.

"Thank you all for coming, you already know why we're here, let's keep it moving," Ginny said briskly.

Harry pulled the dish towel off her shoulder and swatted her with it. "As my lovely and charming wife has said, we all know why we're here, so let me tell you what I'm thinking of doing. I'm open to suggestions at all points from all comers.

"The first thing I want to try is a polite request. It's just possible that Dudley Dursley has joined the adult world since I last checked, and will respond to a rational argument."

Most of the room looked skeptical. Ron coughed something into his hand that made Harry wonder if he'd taken to watching Muggle comedy movies.

"Yes, well, I think we should at least try it. If that doesn't work, my next idea is to use a little persuasion. Nothing dangerous or troublesome, just annoying." He explained. The twins guffawed, Remus and Arthur laughed aloud, and even Minerva cracked a smile.

"While this is going on, Seamus Finnigan, our man on the spot at the Ministry, is keeping an eye on the underage magic detectors. If we suddenly have a big upsurge in one area of the country, then the list of things we need from the Dursleys is down by one."

"Down by one?" asked Bill. "I thought you just needed to know where she was."

"We do," Ginny said, "but we also want them to make us Helen's legal guardians."

This caused a moment of dead silence.

"Why?" asked George, looking confused. "They don't like her, we all know that. Why not just take her and be done with it?"

Alicia nodded. "They'd be only too happy to see the back of her forever, if half what she says is true."

Harry shook his head. "You don't know the Dursleys like I do. To Dudley's mind, Helen is his property, and he won't take kindly to anyone stealing her, even if he doesn't particularly want her."

"A dog in the manger," said Minerva dryly. "He doesn't need or want what he has, but he can't let anyone else have it."

"So we have to get past his instincts to guard what he has, and help him remember that he doesn't want Helen, and we do," Remus finished for her.

"There's another problem as well, the way I see it," said Arthur. "Harry, isn't Dudley likely to refuse you Helen's guardianship simply because it would make you happy?"

Harry nodded slowly. "More likely than I care to think about. He takes after his father that way. We'll just have to work around that somehow."

"And so we will," said Molly firmly. "No grandchild of mine is staying with nasty people like that one minute longer than she has to!"

"So if we all understand what to do, what are we waiting for?" asked Angelina.

"Nothing, I guess," said Harry, grinning at her. "Does everyone understand? Any suggestions, alterations?"

People shook their heads or murmured "No".

"Good luck, 'Arry," said Fleur, and kissed him on the cheek.

Of course, after that, Angelina and Alicia and Penelope and even Molly insisted on kissing him for luck as well. Even Minerva allowed herself to embrace him. The men confined themselves to handshakes or verbal goodbyes and good wishes.

Hermione hugged him hard and whispered in his ear, "You'll be brilliant. Even if they are stubborn morons." Ron grinned at him and gave him a thumbs up. Ginny kissed him, then rubbed her cheek against his, as she did as a cat.

Wand in hand, Harry Disapparated.


	10. Something Goes Wrong

(A/N: OK. I've done some homework to assuage my guilty conscience, and my inbox has finally stopped flashing at me... ah, the joy of getting reviews by e-mail. Response time...

gallandro-83: Dude. First you say I wrote more than you expect, and then you ask for still more?! You need to learn to pace yourself. ::wink:: Thanks for the enthusiasm, though.

CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur: Some whimpering in this chapter... more to come. Hope you like.

athenakitty: Yes to the first, no to the second – they're going to keep this a personal affair. More fun that way.

MaraudersIce05: Thanks, and am doing!

Lady Cinnibar: Well, if you insist on naming yourself after one of her characters, it's a little hard to miss – it could have been coincidence, but I took a guess and it paid off. I especially like her fairy-tale adaptations, _Serpent's Shadow_ and so forth. Rubbing your hands in glee? Thanks! Heh heh heh... evilness... I'm not certain if corporal punishment is illegal in England, but even if it is, remember, Goldenrod is a private school for kids who are troublesome. The way the administration there thinks, anything that makes them easier to handle is fine, and no one's going to believe them anyway... going to have some fun with that in a few chapters.

emikae: The depths of the section? Should I be amused or worried? More is coming, hold your horses. I am amazed when people tell me how original this idea is. It seems pretty commonplace to me... people grow up, people get married and have kids... agreed, it's a little far-fetched in Dudley's case, but Vernon and Petunia met each other, didn't they?

Joshua and mose: I had just finished reading a depressing play for my theater class when I got your reviews... they cheered me up so much I had a private dance party to the music of Easily Amused, my new favorite band. Check them out, they rock. Just Google the name in quotes and hit the second link.

Hope I can get this posted today. Cheers!)

Chapter 10: Something Goes Wrong

Dudley turned into the driveway of Number 4 feeling decidedly pleasant. For the first time in eleven years, there was no one in his house he couldn't stand. Just his lovely wife and his handsome son... they'd have to go to London soon, to get Chester all kitted up for Smeltings...

The car clock flicked over to 12:42 just before he turned it off. He clambered out of the car and shut the door, looking up and down the street. The place was deserted, not even a cat in sight. With a delightful sense of calm, he went up the front steps and let himself in.

"I'm home," he called down the hallway. "Everything went perfectly fine."

"That's wonderful, darling," Marcie called back.

"Dad?" Chester appeared at the top of the stairs. "Dad, I just saw online, there's a new version of Maim'n'Kill come out, Maim'n'Kill 17, I saw it online and I want it, can we get it, please, Dad, please?"

"I think we can manage that," Dudley chuckled. "An early birthday present for the one and only birthday boy in this house."

"Yes!" Chester jumped down the stairs in triumph, making the house shake slightly every time he landed.

The doorbell rang.

"What in the..." Dudley turned to look at the door. _There wasn't anyone on the street just a second ago..._

He opened the door – and froze in terror.

Standing on his doorstep was the embodiment of everything he feared most, the one person he had hoped was out of his life forever.

"Hello, Dudley," said Harry Potter. "We need to talk."

-----

_If he turns any paler he'll be a ghost,_ Harry thought with a combination of disgust and amusement. _Either that or he'll be sick on the doormat again._

"I'm coming in, if you'll excuse me." Harry pushed gently past Dudley, who gabbled something incomprehensible at him, and shut the door behind himself. A boy was standing frozen on the stairs, a boy who could have been a copy of Dudley at age 11. "Hello, Chester."

The boy's eyes bulged out more than they had before. He made a strangled, squawking kind of sound, but seemed incapable of motion.

"Is something wrong?" called a woman's voice from the vicinity of the kitchen. "Hello?"

A small woman with short dark hair and pouting lips came into the hallway. "Dudley, what's going – " She caught sight of Harry. "Who are you?" she demanded.

"My name is Harry Potter. I'm a cousin of Dudley's. You must be Marcie." Harry didn't offer to shake hands – he was sure any woman Dudley had married wouldn't think too kindly of wizards and the like.

Sure enough, the woman recoiled as if he had said he was an assassin there to kill her. "What are you doing here?" she snapped. "Dudley's made it perfectly clear he doesn't want any of your kind in his life. Or ours either. We're a normal family and we intend to keep it that way, so you can just leave, right now. Disappear or vanish or whatever it is you do. Just go!"

Harry shook his head. "I'm afraid I can't do that. I need to speak with you about Helen."

The entire family jerked as if someone had given them an electrical shock. "How – " Dudley began in a hoarse voice. He coughed and tried again. "How do you know that name?"

"Perhaps we should sit down. This may take some time to tell."

"I don't want to sit down with someone like you," Marcie snarled. "Dudley's told me all about you and your kind. I don't want anything to do with you. I want you out of this house and out of our lives, now, this minute!"

"I'll go as soon as you hear me out."

"You'll go now!" shouted Dudley suddenly. He seemed to have found some courage from somewhere. Possibly he was borrowing it from his wife. "I don't care what you have to say, it's all lies anyway! My daughter is perfectly normal, she's never had anything to do with your kind, you foul, unnatural beast! We swore we'd keep her safe from that. At all costs. At all costs!"

"Keep her safe from what?" Harry asked, confused.

"From you!" Marcie screamed. "From you and your disgusting habits and that festering school you all go off to. My daughter will never be a witch!" Chester was plastered against the side wall of the stairs, eyes wide, listening to his parents in frightened fascination.

Harry looked from Dudley, at the bottom of the stairs, to Marcie, in the ground floor hallway beside them, and felt a surge of exasperation. "You can't keep someone safe from magic, Marcie."

"Don't you use my name that way!" Marcie hissed.

"All right, Mrs. Dursley then. You cannot keep someone safe from magic. If they're born with it, they're born with it. Helen was born with magic. She is a witch, whether you like it or not."

"You lie!" Marcie shrieked, at the same moment as Dudley shouted, "That's a filthy lie, Potter!"

"I'm not lying. I've been watching Helen for years and she's..."

"You've been WHAT?" Marcie screeched. "Watching my daughter? How dare you!"

"No," Harry said quietly and precisely. "How dare _you_. How dare you punish your child for something she couldn't help, and push her away at the very moment she needed love the most? How dare you ignore her, neglect her, disregard her at every turn, and then suddenly claim that she's yours and yours alone?"

Despite all his good intentions, Harry was beginning to lose his temper. The Dursleys were all three staring at him open-mouthed. He continued. "You had your chance to make her yours, and you threw it away. You threw _her_ away. If you had ever loved her, ever given her a scrap of affection or even so much as noticed her, besides to make her do your work for you, she would be yours. But you never did, and so she has never been your daughter, except by blood."

"So whose is she, then?" Dudley sneered. "Yours? You don't even know the girl."

Harry sighed. _How do I tell him I've known her for eight years without setting him off again?_ "I believe I do know her. She's curious, intelligent, strong, and brave. She works hard and hits hard, and when she cries, she cries hard. Her favorite color is red, and she sings in her sleep, and once, she made Chester's teddy bear growl at him when she was angry. Am I correct?"

Neither of the adult Dursleys said a word. Chester squealed and attacked the stairs on all fours, almost tearing up the carpet in his frenzy to get away from this scary man who knew too much about him.

Finally Marcie spoke, in a tone filled with fury though barely above a whisper. "I don't know how you know all this, Potter. I don't know how long you've been spying on us, hoping to take what is rightfully ours. But I can tell you this. Helen Dursley is not a witch. She never was one. She never will be one. No daughter of mine is going with filthy people like you for one minute!"

Molly Weasley's voice sounded in Harry's mind. _"No grandchild of mine is staying with nasty people like that one minute longer than she has to!"_ He set his lips, trying to keep his totally inappropriate fit of laughter under control.

He would have loved to see a Molly vs. Marcie shout-off. He had no doubts who would win.

"Get out of my house," Dudley ordered. "Out. Now."

"All right," said Harry, swallowing the last of his laughter by thinking of Helen, frightened and alone. "But I warn you now, I will be back. Helen is a jewel of a child, and since you don't seem to want her, I do. If you won't give her to me, then we may have to start playing a little rougher, but no one's going to get hurt unless one of you does something stupid.

"And let me tell you something, Duddikins." He rounded on Dudley. "Helen is the only reason any of us would come near this place. Once she's ours, we leave you alone. Forever. Think about that."

His last sight of number 4, Privet Drive, was a purple-faced Dudley lunging at him and Marcie inhaling to scream again.

Then he was home, in his own safe, sane, currently rather crowded kitchen.

"How did it go?" "What happened?" "Will they give her up?" "Is she all right?" Questions battered him from all sides. Harry held up his hands.

"I didn't see her, Molly, she was already gone. No, they're not planning on giving her up. They want nothing to do with us or our 'unnaturalness', and Dudley's wife – she's a real piece of work – informed me, at the top of her lungs, that her daughter is not now, has never been, and will never be a witch."

Minerva scowled. "Fool of a woman. Do these people have no common sense at all?"

Harry shook his head. "No, not really. So, personally, I think it's time for Operation Annoyance. All in favor?"

There was a chorus of "Aye", and everyone raised a hand. Fred and George raised both of theirs.

"All right, then," said Ron, taking charge of the group. "First wave, Remus, Minerva, Mum and Dad, and Charlie. Second wave, Bill and Fleur, Percy and Penelope, me and Hermione. Third wave, Fred and Angelina, George and Alicia, and Harry and Ginny. First wave ready – "

Three wizards and two witches tensed.

"GO!"


	11. Facing Down Fear

(A/N: Oops. Mistake in Chapter 3... I said Jamie and Evan were 9 and 7... they are actually only 8 and 6... sorry about that, everyone. Reviewer responses at bottom.)

Chapter 11: Facing Down Fear

Helen looked around the room she had been ushered to. Three bunk beds, wardrobe in the corner, florescent light on the ceiling, no windows, nothing on the walls except white paint. Five of the bunks looked slept in. She slung her duffel onto the sixth one, a bottom bunk neatly made up with grayish sheets, a gray scratchy blanket, and a thin pillow.

_I feel like I'm in a Dickens novel._ Her mum had told the family the stories of David Copperfield and Nicholas Nickleby, and Helen had read _Oliver Twist_ for herself in the school library. _Poor little orphan girl, left by herself in the cruel world..._

Then she chuckled at her dramatics. _No, Dad was the poor little orphan if it was anybody. I _have _a family._

She climbed onto the bed herself, opened her duffel, and dug to the bottom, pulling out Griffy and a Flavor-Changing Everlast from her secret bag. She popped it into her mouth and smiled. _Strawberry to start. Yum._

The taste brought back memories...

-----

Hand in hand, Helen and Ruby approached the shimmering barrier in the doorway. "Should we try it?" Ruby whispered.

"I'm gonna try it," Helen whispered back.

"Sirius tried it once," Ruby told her. "It tickled him until he was red all over, then it spit him back out."

"I'm gonna try it anyway. I want to know what's back there."

Ruby gulped. "I'll go with you, if you want."

"No, you stay here. I'll go."

Helen raised her shoulders and marched through the barrier.

Nothing happened.

She stared around her. Everywhere she looked, there were cauldrons full of interesting mixes and cages with funny creatures in them. "Ruby!" she called. "It's all right, come on through!"

The barrier let Ruby through as well, and the girls danced for a moment in glee before setting out to explore. They both knew they shouldn't touch anything, but there couldn't be any hurt in looking.

Some of the mixtures in the cauldrons smelled delicious. Others made them recoil and hurry past. One kept changing colors, and every time it did, the smell changed with it. Helen and Ruby stood fascinated by that one until –

"_Wingardium Leviosa!_"

The girls squealed as they rose into the air. Their identical Weasley uncles stood up from behind the next row of cauldrons, wands in hands.

"How did you two get in here?" asked one of them.

"We came in," said Helen.

The other one sighed. "We know you came in. Where did you come in?"

"Through the door in the shop," Ruby said. "It let us in."

"It let you in, did it?" One of the uncles scooped Ruby into his arms. "Well, I don't know why it would. It's only supposed to let us in, and tickle anyone else who tries to get in without our say-so." He tickled her, making her kick and squeal.

"Maybe we should get them into the business, George," said the other one, who must be Uncle Fred, catching Helen as he ended his spell. "If they're already good enough to pass our wards at what, six years old?"

"No, that's not it. There must be some reason – got it!"

"What?"

"The spells aren't set to keep everyone out except us, remember – that was too hard, we couldn't get them to recognize us reliably. So we set them to reject everyone who wasn't a twin."

Uncle Fred frowned. "Your point is..."

"That crack you made a couple years ago is coming back to haunt us. Helen and Ruby are apparently twins enough to pass the wards."

"That doesn't make any sense. Helen is a twin, but not Ruby... no, wait. Wasn't there some question about that?"

"Yeah, I remember." Uncle George sighed. "I guess that's what happened, then."

"What?" demanded Ruby.

"Yeah, what's what happened?" Helen seconded.

"We're probably not the people who should tell you girls this story," said Uncle Fred, carrying Helen out into the shopping area of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, with Uncle George and Ruby right behind. "Oy, Ginny! Lose something?"

Her mum came hurrying over with Sirius and Jamie behind her, Evan in the baby-pack on her back. "Did you two try to get back into Uncle Fred and George's workshop?" she said, hands on hips.

"Not tried," said Uncle George, putting Ruby down. "They actually made it."

Her mum looked well and truly surprised. "How?"

"We're not sure," said Uncle Fred, "but if it's what I think it is, then what you and Harry suspected when Ruby was born is true."

"Oh. Oh, dear." Her mum bit her lip and closed her eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath.

"And since Helen is a twin as well, the wards let them through. We have obviously got to find a better way of shielding our workshop," Uncle George said.

"Yes, you do," said her mum, slightly acidly. "Especially since there will be another set of Weasley twins arriving any day now."

Uncle Fred and Uncle George exchanged startled looks. It seemed they hadn't known Aunt Hermione was going to have twins.

Helen giggled a little. She and Ruby had known for weeks.

When they got home, their mum sat down with them to explain. Helen knew she was a birth twin, but she hadn't known Ruby was supposed to be too. The reason Ruby wasn't was that Ruby's birth twin had died.

Ruby cried a little, but it was hard to feel sad over a might-have-been twin brother or sister when there was a living twin sister sitting beside her. Helen hugged her and promised to be the best twin ever...

-----

_And I've made good on that. I hope._ Helen looked up. Someone was coming.

Five girls exploded into the room in a burst of noise. Helen curled up around Griffy, hoping they wouldn't notice her.

"Hey, looka the new kid!"

_Crud._ "Hi. I'm Helen."

"Ooooh. She's _Helen_," said the first girl to the second, in mocking tones.

"Ooooh. She's _Helen_," repeated the second to the third, and so on. By the time they were done, Helen's name sounded like the stupidest thing imaginable.

_Better just keep my mouth shut._ Helen watched as some of the girls climbed onto their beds and others leaned on the wardrobe or sat on the floor.

"Hey, Hel-en," drawled one of them, emphasizing the first syllable. "Got anything interesting in the bag? Any food?"

"Food?" "Somebody say food?" "Who's got food?" The girls crowded around.

Helen started to shake her head, then remembered something. _There's probably no chance of making friends here. Maybe I can scare them off me._ "Yeah, I got food. What'll you give me for it?"

The girls hooted. "What'll we give you for it?" asked the shortest one, who seemed to be the leader. "We'll let you off the new-kid punishments for a day or so. We won't make you lick the floor until tomorrow, and we can put off shutting you up in the closet for a couple days."

That decided Helen. "That sounds like a fair trade," she said, and plunged her hand into her bag, emerging with a handful of candies. "Here, start with these."

The girls pounced on them. Each stuffed one into her mouth. _Do they get that little to eat around here?_ For a second, Helen felt horrible about giving them her uncles' Limping Lozenges. It lasted until she remembered about the closet.

Weasley products worked fast. It wasn't long before the girls were wincing every time they took a step, unable to walk normally. Helen watched them warily, hoping they wouldn't realize that even though they couldn't move very fast, there were five of them and one of her, and they could probably still trap her and beat her up.

"Ow!" complained the ringleader girl as she tried to get to Helen's bed. "I... yow... I can't walk! What did you... agh... what did you do to this stuff?"

Helen held her head high, keeping her fear locked down. _They're bullies. The only way to deal with them is to show no fear and be in control of the situation._ "It's magic. My uncle taught me how to do it. Leave me alone and I won't do it again. Bother me, and you'll find out just what else he taught me."

She glared at each of them in turn, staring them down. The ringleader was last, and even she dropped her eyes after only a few seconds.

Helen felt a surge of triumph. _I did it! I faced them down! Take that, Goldenrod Academy!_

But beneath the triumph was the ever-present fear. She knew she was unlikely to be able to do it again. _My supplies are low. I was going to stock up when I went home for good._

_Which I will do. And soon._

She had to keep believing that. Nothing else could be allowed to matter.

-----

(Reviewer responses:

JeanieBeanie33: Umm, yes, I'd say you have.

gallandro-83: Thanks for the tips. For Dudley and Marcie's behavior, reference Vernon and Petunia – they would love to get Harry out of the house, but if there's any hint of him "getting away", they hold on like bulldogs. (Best example in CoS) No, it's not rational... never has been, never will be... human nature seldom is.

JeanMarie: Thanks!

Ghost: Thanks for the compliments, trombone bunny, but remember, I know where you live.

athenakitty: Have you been on Jeopardy recently, or is your question mark key just stuck? The answer to all is the same: Keep reading, you'll find out. (And you don't even know yet what the "waves" are doing at the Dursleys'... hee hee)

emikae: OK, thanks. One other than this, or just this one?

Kraeg001: Your enthusiasm is incredible, and your comments highly enjoyable. I dedicate this chapter to you.

Thanks everyone! Keep R&Ring!)


	12. Operation Annoyance

(A/N: Thanks go out to Amanda Lack of Mugglenet and Celebony of our own FanFiction for jointly inspiring this chapter. Kudos, ladies! You rock!

Responses at bottom of page...)

Chapter 12: Operation Annoyance

Dudley Dursley fell flat on his face in the hallway as his horrific cousin disappeared into thin air.

Marcie squealed and ran to him. "Oh, my darling, are you all right?"

"'M fine, dear, I'm... I'm fine." Dudley felt his nose. He was almost sure it wasn't broken, but he couldn't be positive. "Yes, I'll be all right. The question is, will we be?"

"Do you think he meant it?" Marcie looked terrified.

"Yes. I'm sure he did. They're going to try to break our spirits, Marcie. They're going to try to wear us down. But we will nevvv..." Trying to get up, Dudley overbalanced and fell heavily onto his rear again. The hall shook.

"...vvver give up," he finished, undaunted. "We promised. We swore. They can't force us to break our word!"

"No, of course they can't," said Marcie, embracing him, or as much of him as she could get her arms around. "Use the wall, dear, use the wall. You'll do much better that way."

Dudley had just inched himself to a standing position when both Dursleys heard a small sound.

_Pop._

"What was that?" Marcie gasped, her eyes wide.

_Pop._

"I don't know." Dudley was scanning the hallway for any sign of unusual activity.

_Pop. Pop._

"I think it's in the living room," Marcie hissed.

_Pop-pop-pop._

"You're right," Dudley breathed. The sounds were indeed coming from the other side of the wall he was leaning on.

_Pop-pop. _

"Let's surprise it," Marcie whispered. Dudley nodded.

_Pop._

"YAAHH!" Dudley jumped around the corner into the living room.

There was no one there. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.

"But it was in here," Marcie said in fear-filled tones, pressing close to Dudley, scanning the walls and ceiling. "There was something in here."

-----

"Second wave, Disillusion and go!"

-----

_Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop. _

_Pop._

Dudley yelped and Marcie screamed. There were _things_ in the room with them, _things_ that one couldn't look directly at.

_Pop. Pop-pop-pop. _

_Pop. Pop._

The _things_ were gone. Dudley didn't dare move. Marcie was sandwiched against his back, trembling in terror.

-----

"Third wave, Disillusion and go!"

-----

_Pop-pop-pop-pop. _

_Pop. _

_BANG._

"Oops. Sorry about that."

Marcie whimpered. Having _things popping _in and out of her living room wasn't bad enough, now they had to _talk?_

_Pop. Pop-pop-pop. _

_BANG. _

_Pop._

-----

"You did that on purpose, Fred, didn't you."

"What fun would it be otherwise, little sister?"

"All waves, Apparate at will!" Ron shouted.

-----

The living room went crazy. It was like being trapped inside a pot of popcorn.

_Pop-pop-poppity-pop. BANG. BANG._

_Poppity-poppity-poppity-BANG._

_BANG. Pop. _

_Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop. _

_Pop. _

A pause. Marcie took a deep breath and was just about to move when...

_Pop-BANG-pop._

_BANG. BANG. BANG._

_Pop-poppity-poppity-pop._

_BANG-BANG-pop-BANG._

_BANG-pop-pop-BANG-pop._

_Pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop-pop._

Marcie moaned and fainted. Dudley staggered back and almost fell on top of her but regained his footing at the last moment.

One of the figures in the room gave a sharp whistle. With a tremendous _BANG!_ they all vanished. All but one.

That one suddenly came into focus as a sharp-faced woman with salt-and-pepper hair pulled back in a tight bun. She stared at him, and Dudley squirmed, feeling like a schoolboy caught with his hand in the candy dish.

"We can keep this up all night, if you're so inclined, Mr. Dursley," she said sternly. "Or we can sit down and talk like civilized people."

_Pop. Pop-pop._

She vanished, but two other figures took her place. One was his horrendous cousin – Dudley stepped hurriedly in front of Marcie – and the other was a fiercely beautiful red-haired woman.

"Dudley, I'd like you to meet my wife, Ginny," said Harry Potter.

Dudley stifled a groan. This day was definitely not getting any better.

At that moment, screaming erupted upstairs.

-----

"Oh, Lord," gasped Hermione, out of breath with laughing. "Did... you see... their _faces_?"

The mood in the kitchen of the Marauders' Den was highly hilarious. Even Minerva McGonagall and Percy Weasley were laughing at the sight the Dursleys had made, pressed back to back and scared stiff of the mostly invisible people appearing and disappearing in their living room.

"I had forgotten," Remus remarked as he accepted a tissue from Molly Weasley to wipe his streaming face, "how much fun pranking people really is."

"Especially... people who... deserve it," wheezed Charlie, doubled over he was laughing so hard.

Angelina and Alicia waved assent, helpless in fits of the giggles.

Arabella Figg poked her head in from the living room. "What in the world is so funny?" she asked in astonishment.

Her appearance set everyone off again.

-----

"DAD! MUM! SOMEBODY HELP ME! AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!!"

"That's really low, Potter," Dudley growled, "attacking a child!"

"We haven't done anything to your son," snapped the woman.

Dudley wasn't listening. He was already halfway into the hall. "I'm coming, Chester!" he shouted up the stairs. "Daddy's coming!"

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH! MY FEET! SOMEBODY HELP!" The tones of Chester's voice changed, from fear to panic. "AHHH! WHO ARE YOU?! HOW DID YOU GET IN HERE?! DAD!!"

"GET AWAY FROM MY SON, POTTER!" Dudley yelled, wrenching open his son's bedroom door.

He stared. The Potters were standing next to Chester, but they weren't doing anything to him. On the contrary, they appeared to be trying not to laugh. Chester was gasping and motioning helplessly at something on the floor –

Dudley's eyes widened. The boy's feet had grown enormous – they were nearly as long as his legs.

"Which one of you did this?" Dudley shouted. "Come on, admit it. Who did this?"

"I'll be right back," said the woman, in a tone that suggested she was swallowing a snicker, and disappeared.

Potter got a hold of himself and met Dudley's eyes. "Neither of us did this, Dudley. I have a feeling the culprit is... how shall I say this... closer to home?"

"How many times do I have to tell you, my daughter is NOT A WITCH!"

_BANG._

Three people appeared in the corner of the room. One was the woman Potter claimed was his wife. The other two...

Dudley found himself against the wall with no memory of how he had gotten there. He remembered a pair of identical red-haired men all too well.

"I believe one of your products was responsible for this," said the woman, waving at Chester, who was now wailing wordlessly and thrashing around, trying to get away from the scary people with the handicap of feet the size of cricket bats.

The men took one look at each other and burst out in guffaws.

"It was our... product..." one of them got out.

"But we didn't... give it to him," the other managed.

"Must... must have been Helen," said the first one.

They high-fived one another, then collapsed against the nearest wall, laughing helplessly. The woman, who could have been their sister, bit her lip hard and turned away. Potter cleared his throat. "I think you probably remember Fred and George Weasley, Dudley," he said. "Inventors of the Ton-Tongue Toffee and... what exactly causes this, gentlemen?"

"Bigfoot Biscuits," said one of the twins, getting himself under control.

"We sent Helen some last Christmas," said the other.

"Wrapped, of course."

"She must have left them..."

"... where this little bloke would find them..."

"And they work beautifully."

They looked at each other again, grinning, but the woman tapped one of them on the shoulder, and when he turned to look at her, glared at them and folded her arms. The two were immediately all business.

"We can sort this out for you right away, Mr. Dursley," said one of them.

"For a fee, of course," said the other.

"F-f-fee?" Dudley tried to settle his voice, but it was cracking with terror. "W-what fee?"

"We want to know where Helen is," said the woman. "And then we want you to make us her legal guardians."

Dudley's eyes had been big before, but now they were practically bulging out.

"After you give us those two things," Potter said, "we'll repair this damage and leave you in peace."

Dudley was lost for words. Fortunately for him, something intervened at that precise moment that made words unnecessary.

_BANG!_

He yelped and turned toward the hallway, where a tall black man was now standing.

"All right, Harry?" said the new arrival.

"All right, Dean," Potter replied. "Whaddaya got?"

"Unusual readings about a half-hour northeast of here," said the man, coming into the room and handing Potter a piece of cream-colored stuff that looked like paper but probably wasn't. "Looks like preset magic being triggered, rather than accidental or underage. Possibly a Zonko's or a Weasley product..."

"Well, we have the experts right here, as it happens," said the woman, and the two men came forward to have a look.

"Ah," said one in a tone of satisfaction. "Yes, this is one of ours. Limping Lozenges, isn't it?"

"Most definitely," said the other. "And Helen had some of those, too, didn't she?"

"So we have our location," said Potter, grinning. "Let's get everyone moving. We'll have her out of wherever-it-is in two shakes of a unicorn's tail. Thanks, Dean."

"What else are friends for, Harry?" _BANG_, and the black man was gone.

The woman and the identical men disappeared too, with small pops. Dudley was alone in the room with his son, by this time almost hysterical, and Potter.

Wordlessly, Potter pulled out his little stick and pointed it at Chester's feet. Dudley lunged, but for the second time that day, he wasn't fast enough. Chester fell backwards off the bed as his feet returned to normal, and Potter vanished before Dudley ever reached him.

This time, Dudley realized hazily from his face-down position on the floor, his nose was definitely broken. But that didn't matter. Only one thing mattered.

He had to get to Goldenrod Academy before the wizards did.

(A/N: Dudley just never learns, does he?

Kraeg001: Excellent reviews! Keep going! ;-)

CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur, Silhouette of Sin, and Kayette: Thanks!

Updates may be fewer in the days to come... I start my job tomorrow, and homework is getting heavier... but I will not abandon Helen... I promise...

Keep reviewing; it provides incentive for me to write! And try my other stuff if you haven't already! (Caprice-Ann – thanks too for the Resonance review!))


	13. Found and Lost

Chapter 13: Found and Lost

_At least there's sun._

Helen tilted her head back, feeling as if the rays were stroking her cheeks, as soft as her baby sister's hair across her face in the morning. Bed-hopping was a common sport at the Den. It wasn't unknown for the younger children to sleep in four or more beds per night.

A persistent voice whispered at the back of her head. _I wonder if I'll ever wake up with Mary Jane curled up against me again? Or Ceddie at my feet with his thumb in his mouth? _

She shook her head sharply, angry at herself. _Stop that. Everything will be all right. You know they'll come. _

_But what if they don't want me anymore?_

_If they didn't want you, they could have left you at the Dursleys' any time these past eight years. You're not a sniveling Dursley anymore. You're a Potter. Start acting like one!_

Helen's eyes shot open. "That was scary," she whispered. "I sounded just like Dad." She was talking to herself, since she was still the only one huddled in her small corner of wall. The other girls were talking in small groups in the middle of the fenced-in area of blacktop that apparently served Goldenrod Academy as a playground.

_But they're wary. One from every group is always watching, watching the others, watching all around. It's them against the world, and they know it._

_I wonder if I'll be like them after a week here. Or two weeks. Or a month..._

_STOP THAT!_ She jumped up and started pacing. _I'll never know, will I, because I'm not going to be here a month. Or even a week. I doubt I'll even be here another day. They are coming. They are._

Caught up in her own thoughts, Helen didn't realize she was repeating her one hope aloud. "They _are_ coming. They _are_. They _are_ coming."

"Who's coming, new girl? The aliens?"

_Oops. That was stupid of me._ She had walked almost into the middle of a conclave of girls. Not the ones from her dormitory, but different ones. And she didn't have anything to scare them off with.

_Wait...maybe I do._ She raised her chin and crossed her arms. It was the pose that got Chester out of her way the fastest. "For your information, my _family_ is coming. And they will have me out of here so fast you won't even see me go. They may scare you a little first, to make up for me getting scared. And then I'm going _home_, and I'm going to a _real_ school this fall, and I am going to learn to be a _witch_."

The girls stared at her.

No, they were staring _beyond_ her, and one of them was raising a shaking hand to point. "Those cats, looka those cats, they just – popped out of the air!"

She knew she shouldn't, that they were probably only doing it to trick her, but she turned around.

Two tabby cats, one orange, one gray, were trotting towards her eagerly.

"_Mum!_ Grandma Minnie!"

Helen fell to her knees as the orange cat broke into a full gallop and leapt into her outstretched arms, purring emphatically. The gray cat arrived a few moments later and began to strop Helen's knees, her purr almost as loud as the orange cat's.

Helen felt the sandpaper caress of a tongue on her face, washing away the tears she hadn't been aware of until that moment. Nothing mattered now. Her family had found her. Everything would be all right.

"Miss Dursley!"

Helen barely even heard. That name belonged to someone else now.

"MISS DURSLEY!"

Helen jumped. She couldn't help it. Anyone would jump if somebody had just bellowed in their ear.

Quickly, she stood up. The bellower was probably a professor. She had that "don't-cross-me" look about her that Helen's Grandma Minnie had perfected. And she was staring at that lady, currently between Helen's feet, with a very sour expression on her face.

"Where did these – _cats_ – come from, Miss Dursley?"

"I'm not sure, Professor. They just came to me."

"They popped out of the air!" volunteered one of the girls, the one who had spoken before, a small child with a mousy look to her. "They weren't there, and then they were. It was like magic."

Helen repressed a grin and wondered what would happen if she told the professor it _was_ magic.

_They'd probably think I was mental._

"There's no such thing as magic, Miss Petrov," the professor said in a no-nonsense tone. "You're old enough to know that. Put that thing down, Miss Dursley. No animals are allowed inside the fence. If it comes back here, we'll have to have it exterminated."

"Yes, Professor." Helen opened her arms to let her mum leap lightly to the ground.

"You've been causing trouble, Miss Dursley. Not only here, but in your dormitory. Something about poisoned candies, I believe."

"They weren't poisoned, Professor."

"And yet they caused your fellow students pain. Some of those girls still cannot walk properly. Such behavior requires a visit to the Headmaster."

Helen froze. "Will he use his cane on me?" she asked, perhaps a little louder than she had to for her words to carry to the woman's ears.

"If he decides your behavior warrants it, and I think he likely will, yes. Now come along."

The cats hissed as one and raced around the corner of the building as the professor pulled Helen toward the door by her wrist.

-----

The non-Animagi members of the rescue squad had found a comfortable grove of trees not too far from the school where they could wait. To pass the time for the men, Charlie was dealing Texas Hold 'Em, made more interesting by the use of Exploding Snap cards, so that one's hand could literally go bust. The women were chatting, catching up on the latest news.

Harry was alone, sitting with his back to a tree, looking up into the green leaves and thinking of the past.

_We gained so much in that last fight. But we lost so much, too. So many._

The final battle between Voldemort's Death Eaters and the rest of the wizarding world had been sparked by a kidnapping. The Death Eaters had only intended to snatch Hermione, but Penelope Clearwater had tried to stop them, so they had taken her as well.

_And Snape saved them._

Severus Snape, Hogwarts Potions Master and Dumbledore's spy among the Death Eaters, had blown his own cover to give Penelope and Hermione the chance they needed to escape with the vital information: Voldemort was weakening, his confidence crumbling, his Death Eaters leaving him. This was the time to strike.

_He died for that. I wish I could have thanked him._

_Then Viktor. It was just dumb luck that he was even there..._

Viktor Krum, crazed with worry over Hermione, had inadvertently been closer than anyone to the Death Eaters' hideout when it went up like one of the Weasleys' fireworks. His Seeker's eyes had found the terrified, exhausted women, who barely had enough strength to stand, let alone to Apparate. He had given them his own broom and wand and distracted the Death Eaters while they got away. His last words to Hermione had been "Tell this Ronald he is very lucky man."

_Ron cried like a baby when he heard that._

_And we all cried over Luna._

Luna Lovegood, a dreamy Ravenclaw who had been in Ginny's year, had stopped Voldemort's last try to keep Hermione and Penelope from telling his secret. Draco Malfoy had smuggled a poisonous snake into the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, a snake under orders from Voldemort to kill the girls on sight. Luna had been visiting them when she caught sight of the snake. There was no time to pull her wand. She had kept the snake from biting Penelope with the only thing she had.

Her own hand.

Even Madam Pomfrey had not been able to save her.

_But there was no time for grief then. We had to fight..._

"Harry!" Ginny exploded into view, Minerva a second behind her. "They use _switches_ at this place!"

Ron flung down his hand (which promptly exploded) and jumped to his feet. "_What?_"

He wasn't alone. Everyone was up, clamoring to know how Ginny knew, was Helen being hurt, how could they get in?

"Quiet," said Minerva.

There was instant silence. Most of the group had gone through years of classes with Professor McGonagall, and they knew very well when she meant what she said.

"I think the ladies will handle this one," she said. "Disillusionment Charms, girls, and follow me."

Harry blinked. He was alone with Remus Lupin and seven Weasley males.

Remus, he noticed, was looking a touch paler than usual.

"Are you all right?" he asked, moving to Remus' side as the poker game resumed (with some grumbling at Ron, who had managed to incinerate the pieces of parchment they were using for counters).

"I'll be fine, Harry. Same old trouble, I'm afraid."

"Is full moon tonight?"

Remus nodded.

Suddenly Harry had a flash of inspiration. He whispered in Remus' ear.

Remus' eyes widened. "Harry – that's _brilliant_!"

"You took your potion before you left?"

"Yes indeed." Remus was grinning like the schoolboy he'd been when he'd received his nickname. "Tonight, Moony stalks again."

-----

(A/N: Hee hee hee... Goldenrod Academy is in for a rough night... and what are those lovely ladies up to?

Lady Cinnibar: Ahh anime... not much of a fan myself, but friends with lots of fans... YOUR poor mailbox? What about mine? More reviews every time I check! ;-)

Kraeg001: Glad I amuse you. Your story was thought-provoking. Keep up the good work... or rework. (And Harry's memories in this chapter should be opening a line of thinking in regards to your question.)

athenakitty: A Pensieve? Why would they do that? (Oh no, you're contagious!) No, Chester is through and through Muggle, in the worst way possible. As for your other questions, keep checking back, you'll find out eventually...

gallandro-83: I think you're right. I had fun writing that scene; I'm glad you had fun reading it.

JeanMarie: Agreed on Dudley's origin. Don't worry, he won't. If he ever had, she would have been out of Privet Drive so fast you couldn't even see the tracks. That was one of the conditions Harry and Ginny set for themselves when they adopted her.

Joshua: Improvement? And here I thought I was perfect. ::sniffle, wink::

Lachwen, bewitched, CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur: Thanks!

Next update will NOT be this Friday, because I have a field trip with my geology class. We get to camp out and study rocks. Woohoo. I will try to get it up on Saturday, but no guarantees. I will do my best to update Resonance tomorrow and Saturday as planned.

Thanks all! Keep reading and keep reviewing, I love hearing from you!)


	14. Promises

Chapter 14: Promises

Helen didn't dare to try anything against the unnamed professor who had her wrist gripped so tightly it was painful. She knew only that her family was nearby, not exactly where they were, and she had no desire to get herself punished, even if that punishment would be avenged later.

_Better to avoid it altogether._

So she did nothing as she was half-dragged along the main corridor, up the stairs, and down the hallway to the same door she had seen earlier. The professor knocked, and a moment later, the Headmaster answered.

"Ah, Professor Docson, thank you. Miss Dursley, do come in."

The woman stalked away down the hall, and Helen thought of her family and walked into the room with her head high and her face calm.

_Show them no fear,_ her Aunt Hermione had always said._ If you let them see you're scared, they've won the first round already._

_Of course,_ _you'll probably _be_ scared, _her Uncle Ron had always added, _but that's normal. Everyone gets scared. Gryffindors just don't let it show._

"Miss Dursley. I must say, your father warned me that you were something of a troublemaker, but I had no idea you would begin so soon. Poisoning your dorm mates, trying to frighten the other girls with obviously untrue and fantastical tales – tell me, Miss Dursley, do you believe in magic?"

Behind the headmaster, her grandmum suddenly materialized, winked at her, and melted back into the drab wallpaper.

Helen grinned. She could say anything she wanted, now.

"What exactly is so funny, Miss Dursley?"

"Well, sir, for starters, you have my name wrong."

"I have your name wrong." If the headmaster's voice had been any flatter, it would have been delicious with maple syrup and butter.

"Yes, sir. I'm Helen Potter, not Helen Dursley. And I do believe in magic. I know it's real, because I'm a witch, and so is my mum and my sisters, and my dad and my brothers are wizards."

"Really, now." The Headmaster turned over a few sheets of paper, perused a line or two of text, and looked up at Helen. "Miss Dursley, we have a way of dealing with liars here at Goldenrod which I doubt you will enjoy. It is swift and usually quite effective. Because you are new and don't know the rules yet, I will give you one chance to tell me the truth."

"I am telling the truth, sir."

"Come, now, Miss Dursley. I have your information sheet here on my desk, and it clearly states that you have only one brother, the same age as yourself, and no sisters. Obviously, you are lying about having other siblings. I don't even need to go into how ridiculous this whole idea of magic is. One last chance."

Helen met the headmaster's gaze frankly and said nothing.

After about fifteen seconds, Headmaster Lutch looked away.

There was a small noise from the back of the room that sounded suspiciously like a stifled "_Yes!_"

"Very well, Miss Dursley." He emphasized the hateful name, refusing to look at Helen, directing his eyes instead to the sticks in the corner. "You will come here and lie on my desk, on your stomach, and you will not move until I say you may."

"_Go on,_" her grandmum's voice whispered in Helen's ear. "_He won't lay a finger on you._"

Confidently, Helen did as she was told.

"We will begin with three," the Headmaster said, swinging the switch back and forth through the air, as if he enjoyed the whistling sound it made. "If you still persist in these lies, we will continue until you do not."

He slapped the floor with the stick. Despite herself, Helen flinched, and the Headmaster gave a slow and nasty laugh. "You will be fun to break, won't you."

He swung the switch high in the air and brought it whistling down.

Or tried to.

Halfway there, his arm was caught by a hand that had hauled six determined boys and one headstrong girl out of every sort of trouble known to wizardkind, and then let them have it, but good, afterwards. To say, therefore, that Molly Weasley had a grip of steel would have been overestimating steel.

Of course, the Headmaster was confused at this, and more so by the fact that he couldn't see her. All he knew was that something had stopped him from striking Helen, and so he tried to wrench his arm free to have another go at her.

What he accomplished was throwing himself off balance, allowing Helen's grandmum to shove him across the room into the wall.

As he recovered himself, the hidden occupants of the room revealed themselves.

Helen rolled over, sat up, and grinned at his horrified face.

"Told you so," she said.

"No one threatens to _break_ my granddaughter and gets away with it," said Molly, shaking her wand in the Headmaster's face. "No one."

"Threats are rather barbaric, aren't they?" said Penelope, examining the dirty windows and shaking her head. "I prefer promises, myself."

"Agreed," said Alicia. She was looking through the Headmaster's papers – the ones Helen wasn't sitting on – while Angelina investigated the drawers of the desk. "Helen, love, you're in the way."

Helen smiled at her aunt and slipped off the desk.

"So here's our promise to you," said Angelina, looking over the desk at the quivering man against the opposite wall. "If you hurt Helen at all, in any way, you answer to us."

"And we are not without power," Hermione said absently, peering intently at the wallpaper. "This design is horrid. _Papyrum Muralis Emendum!_"

She waved her wand around the room, and the wallpaper turned bright red with gold lions splashed across it.

"No, no, 'Ermione," said Fleur. "Let me, I 'ave an idea..." She gestured with her own wand, and the walls were suddenly covered in sky-blue paper with stars all over it.

"I rather liked the first one," said Minerva, and lazily flicked her wand, restoring Hermione's colors to the room. Fleur rolled her eyes and muttered something in French that sounded impolite.

"Helen, come here," said Ginny.

Helen ran to her mum's side and collected her hug. Then Ginny faced the Headmaster, who was shaking worse than ever. "My name is Ginevra Potter, and this child is my daughter. My husband and I will be coming to claim her tomorrow. If she is harmed in any way, we will do whatever we see fit to redress that harm. This is your only warning. Have a nice day."

She kissed Helen and Disapparated. The other women stroked Helen's hair or embraced her briefly before they too left.

Helen was alone in the room with the Headmaster, who appeared to be trying to get through the wall by pushing it down with his back.

"May I go, sir?"

"What? Oh, yes, yes, go..."

She went, but stopped at the door when Lutch said, in what was attempting to be a stern tone, "Miss Dursley."

She looked back at him. "Yes, sir?"

"None of this ever happened."

"Of course not, sir."

Helen made her way back to her dormitory grinning like a Cheshire kneazle.

There was a note waiting on her bed.

_Helen,_

_Don't be frightened tonight if you hear screaming. We're going to have a little fun. Did you happen to notice it's full moon? _

_We'll have you out of there by tomorrow, love, never fear._

_Dad_

Helen giggled happily. There was only one reason for her dad to mention the moon.

_Grandpa Remus must be with them. This will be great._

_The only way it could be better is if the Dursleys were here..._

-----

"How much farther is it, love?"

"Only about five minutes. They can't possibly know exactly where it is. It's still conceivable that we could beat them there."

"Dad, why did I have to come? I don't care about Helen."

"Quiet, Chester," snapped Marcie.

Dudley kept his eyes on the road. His nose hurt, but he didn't let that distract him.

_I made a vow. My daughter will not be a witch._

_I made a promise._

-----

(A/N: SURPRISE! Early update!

If you're really nice and review lots and lots for me, I might even give you another chapter on Saturday. Please notice, though, that this fic is beginning to end...

There may be sequels, but I want to do some work on Resonance first. And I need your opinion. Would a "Helen Potter at Hogwarts" series be fun to read, not fun to read, what?

Please review and let me know. If you think of something else you want to say, my e-mail is posted.

JeanieBeanie33: Because he's an idiot, of course! A bowling ball? I love it! May I use it, please?

Kraeg001: Sigh. I don't like killing off characters either, but it's a war... some people are obviously going to die. Thanks for the invite.

athenakitty: Thanks for the idea. Keep reading, you'll see.

harryp123, Gyre, Queen of the Jungle, bewitched: Thanks!

Until Saturday, then... and I really mean it this time...)


	15. Friendly Gestures

(A/N: This chapter is co-dedicated to Nalini213 and my geo professor, who made it possible for the chapter to go up today by, respectively, inspiring me to write it and giving me the afternoon off lab so I could write it. Glad to have you back, Nalini!)

Chapter 15: Friendly Gestures

"Mission accomplished," declared Angelina as she Apparated in the grove outside Goldenrod. "Hermione even left the Headmaster a little remembrance gift."

"Redid his office in a Gryffindor motif," Alicia said gleefully. "Spectacular. Oh, and here, Harry." She handed him a sheaf of forms relating to one Helen Dursley, which she had filched from Lutch's desk.

"Thanks, Alicia." Harry began examining the papers, handing each sheet to Ginny as he finished it. "Hmm, no privileges, any and all reasonable punishments, really now... Oh, I like this one. She's supposed to have no visitors at all, not even immediate family."

"Oh dear," said Ginny in an innocent tone. "We seem to have violated the Dursleys' wishes. How dreadful of us."

"Speaking of the Dursleys, does that car look familiar to anyone else?" asked Bill, peering out one side of the glade.

There was a stampede to the edge of the trees that overlooked the road.

"It's so perfect," George said in a tone of wonder.

"You'd think we'd custom-ordered it," said Fred.

"Knowing them, they probably did," Ginny muttered to Harry.

"Charlie, Percy, as soon as that car clears the gates, close 'em up tight," Ron said. "Bill, you lock it. Dad, you think you can disrupt the ekeltricity? Knock out their phones and such?"

"With pleasure, son." Arthur Weasley rolled his shoulders and took careful aim at the school.

"No, wait," said Hermione. "_Surge_ the power first. Give the system more than it can handle. Then shut it down for a few seconds, then let it run normally. That'll kill anything delicate they have, like phones or computers, without blowing out all the lights. Remember, those dorms haven't any windows."

"See, this is why I married you," Ron said in a tone of admiration. "You think of everything."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Shut up and kiss me."

Everyone considerately looked away.

-----

Dudley Dursley drove through the gates of Goldenrod Academy in a shower of flying gravel.

They slammed shut behind him.

Dudley hit the brakes and turned, with an effort, to look at the gates. They appeared to have closed entirely on their own, since there were no motors, no wires attached to them. They were just simple chain-link doors on hinges.

There was no way they could have slammed like that on their own.

More worried now than ever, Dudley found a place to park. His compulsion to get to Goldenrod was beginning to wane now that he was here. What, after all, could he do here that their own highly competent staff couldn't do better?

"Daaaaad," whined Chester, "can we please go home? I'm _hungry_. We never had lunch."

"I'm sure they have kitchens here," said Marcie, nervous and trying to calm herself by petting Chester. "We'll find you something, Chester love, never you worry."

Dudley got out and went over to the gates to look at them. His discomfort increased greatly when he saw the rather ostentatiously large padlock attached to them. The padlock which hadn't been there a moment ago. And there was no cover for yards in any direction from the gate. Someone would have had to run flat out, bung the thing on the gates without making any noise, and sprint away again for him not to see them.

Unless... he looked up at a small patch of woods on a gentle hill near the school and suddenly had a horrid thought. Unless _they_ were here already.

-----

"He's looking directly at us," said Percy in a thoughtful tone. "It would be unfriendly not to acknowledge him."

-----

A red-haired figure stepped out of the grove of trees and waved at Dudley. It was followed a moment later by one with long dark hair, and then others began to step out of the trees, about half red-headed, the other half brown-haired, grayish, silvery-blond –

With a shudder, Dudley recognized his cousin's untidy black crop off to one side, right beside a brown bush of hair and flanked by two red messes, one longer than the other. And unless he was seeing things, which he devoutly hoped, every one of those people was grinning and cheerily waving at him.

He turned away and stared up at the school. _I was right. They're here._

_There are times when you just don't want to be right._

-----

Shannon Docson, Professor of Maths, had just picked up the telephone and put it to her ear when something very odd occurred. Instead of a dial tone, she seemed to hear a man's voice saying, "_Dynamis Insurgis!_"

And then she was lying on the floor in a darker-than-usual hallway, wondering dimly why her hand hurt.

She rolled over stiffly and looked at it. There was a reddening outline of a telephone receiver imprinted on it.

She looked for the receiver. It was gone. The telephone cord ended in a frayed spurt of wires, and there were pieces of plastic and metal all over the hallway floor. One of the bulbs in the light panel over her head must also have shattered – she could see the pieces of glass inside the plastic cover – and the other was flickering.

_Something is severely wrong here._

She picked herself up off the floor, slowly, and started for the Headmaster's Office. Tom Lutch would answer for this, or she would know the reason why.

-----

Helen was sitting on her bed, reading. Three of the other girls who lived in the room were also there, talking quietly and casting wary looks her way. She didn't know where the other two were. Probably still in the Infirmary, if the Limping Lozenges hadn't worn off yet.

She became aware of a humming noise. It seemed to be coming from the ceiling lights. And the room was getting brighter every second.

Then the lights went out entirely. The other girls shouted, and at least one of them tried to get up, as Helen heard a thud and a curse. She remained where she was. There was no danger yet, and she wouldn't hurt herself just sitting still.

The lights came back on. One of the other girls was lying, moaning, on the floor, hand pressed to her head, with blood trickling out from under it. The other two girls hurried over to her. One of them helped her friend sit up, talking to her quietly, and the other hurried out of the room, probably to get some water from the washroom.

_I probably shouldn't do this..._ But Helen hated seeing anyone in pain. She dug through her bag until she found what she was looking for, then slid off her bed and joined the other girls on the floor.

"I have some stuff that could help you feel better," she said tentatively, showing the hurt girl a pair of wrapped lollipops.

"Why should I trust you, witch?" snapped the girl.

"These are exactly the same. You pick one and I'll eat it. You eat the other. That way you know they're not poison."

The girl wavered, but it was obvious the cut on her head hurt a lot. "No tricks? You swear?"

"Witch's honor," Helen said.

"You eat that one, then," said the girl, touching one of the candies.

Helen unwrapped it and stuck it in her mouth. After waiting a moment to prove nothing was happening, she offered the other one to the girl, who pulled off the paper and dubiously began to suck on it.

Within a few seconds, she smiled. "Hey, it works!"

"Soothing Suckers. I love them. They really helped the time my brother knocked me over with his broomstick."

The girl laughed, assuming Helen was joking, but she wasn't. Sirius had shown the Potter aptitude for flying at a young age, and he was crazy about Quidditch, but instead of being a Chaser like his mum or a Seeker like his dad, he had only ever wanted to play Beater. As a result, he practiced flying close to everyone, pretending they were Bludgers, and one day he had flown a little too close to Helen. _Oooh, wasn't Mum mad... she confiscated his broom for three weeks..._

"Why'd you do that?" the other girl asked, breaking into Helen's thoughts. "Help me, I mean. After we were mean to you."

"Well..." Helen shrugged. "Even if I'm not staying, I'd rather have friends than enemies."

The other girl smiled weakly. "No hard feelings, then?"

"No hard feelings," Helen agreed.

"I'm Marie." The girl spit in her hand and extended it.

"Helen." Helen spit in her own hand.

They shook.

-----

(A/N: OK, so I'm a big liar about updates, but I love writing this stuff. Being away from my computer for a day and a half is probably going to annoy me greatly as I think up zillions of new plot lines and ideas.

Lady Cinnibar: Sugar highs are fun. I tend to agree on the topic of werewolves – it was one of the only things I didn't like about movie #3. Thanks for the opinion.

athenakitty: No, no more kids for Dudley. One little Dursley is quite enough.

Gyre: Thanks for the opinion. I'm quite looking forward to writing the Dursleys' reaction to a werewolf.

CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur: Are you a major night owl, or are you in a different time zone than I am? (Eastern) B/c when you review at 3 AM saying you're just going to bed...

Kraeg001: Thanks. They need to be, to deal with Weasley men!

Nalini213: And you call yourself a HP fan... tsk tsk tsk. Blood isn't everything. So no, Helen is Dudley and Marcie's blood daughter (Ch.11). The reason she turned out the way she did is because Harry and Ginny got to her in time. It was only half chance that Harry found out about it – he had been keeping an eye on the Dursley children ever since he got the word (through Mrs. Figg, of course) that one of them looked like his mother (Ch. 6).

Marcie told Dudley what to say – she's the brains of that family (Ch. 8). Don't miss the names in Chapter 7 – there's only 2, but one of them is a little sneaky – and don't fret it, there's no rush since no one else seems interested, or smart enough, to figure out the names (Ch. 9). Thank you for all your compliments, you're very perceptive (Ch. 13), and finally, you're making a big assumption – that Chester can think at all (Ch. 12).

I think Resonance will be taking most of my time after I finish Home, but you never know...

Thanks everyone! Surprise me with lots of reviews when I get back on Saturday!)


	16. Unfriendly Gestures

Chapter 16: Unfriendly Gestures

"I want someone on the inside, keeping an eye on Helen," Harry said, watching the Dursleys go up the front stairs of Goldenrod Academy. "Just in case Dudley decides to try something funny."

"I'll go," said Charlie. "Experience with dragons might come in handy with that mother of hers. Where's her dorm at, Harry?"

"Ground floor. In through the main entrance, second right, then first door on the left."

"Got it." Charlie Disillusioned himself and Disapparated.

"You know, we're doing a lot of magic around here," Ron said. "And we'll be doing more tonight, if the twins have their way. The Ministry's bound to notice."

"Well, why don't you go and very nicely ask Seamus and Dean if they can jigger the boards for us?" Ginny poked her brother in the side. "Tell them what it's for. I'm sure they'll be happy to help us out again."

"Ow – fine. I'm going, I'm going." Ron stood up, dusted off his robes, and Disapparated in his turn.

"They're so easy to manipulate, aren't they," said Hermione fondly, looking at the place where Ron had been.

"It's to make up for the fact that you can't get anywhere asking them directly, because they're either dense as rocks or stubborn as mules," Ginny answered.

"The Weasleys, or men in general?" Harry asked.

"Yes," said the two most important women in his life at the same time.

Harry sighed. "Trying to get a straight answer out of a woman is like trying to keep Peeves from throwing things around."

Hermione held him down while Ginny tickled.

-----

The girl who had been kneeling beside Marie scooted away in horror. "You're making friends with her? She's a freak, a witch, she said so herself!"

"She helped me, 'Manda. It doesn't even hurt anymore. Whatsamatter, you scared of her?"

"Yes. And so should you be. She did something to you, something to your head. She messed you up inside, messed up your thinking so you'd be her friend and not ours. Well, fine, be that way." She jerked her thumb over her shoulder. "You're out. You're no Thornblossom any more!"

"Amanda..." Marie started, but the girl was already out the door. She sighed. "She's going to spread the word. This time tomorrow, my name will be mud all over this place."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get you in trouble."

"'Snot your fault. It's just the way life works."

"What's a Thornblossom?"

"My gang... well, it was, anyway. All the gangs have names. Thornblossoms, Queendogs, stuff like that. You stick with your gang and don't mess with other people's, and you look out for your gang above anything. At least that's the way it's supposed to work. I bucked the system, shaking with you after you busted my gang. They're all gonna be after me for making friends with the enemy."

Helen sighed. "It shouldn't be that way. It isn't, where I'm going."

"Yeah, so tell me about this family of yours. If I'm gonna get beat up, at least I wanna have some good stories to show for it."

They sat on Helen's bed, and Helen began to tell Marie about her home, her parents and siblings and relatives. Marie listened, apparently entranced by the vision of a happy life, not out of reach but embodied in front of her.

"How did you end up here, anyway?" Helen asked, suddenly remembering where she was. "You seem really nice. What did you do to get stuck here?"

"I haven't got any real family, not like you." Marie grimaced. "Just a cousin, and she doesn't like me. But my parents left me some major money, so she took care of me to get the income. Until some guy tried to get friendly at school. Too friendly. I pulled a knife on him."

Helen gasped.

"Oh, don't get your knickers in a twist, I didn't _do_ anything," said Marie impatiently. "But his family made a big fuss, and my cousin saw a chance to get rid of me, and here I am. I hate this place, but at least here, no one tries to hide that they hate you. It's all out in the open."

Helen looked at the bed. "I wish I could help," she said in a small voice.

"Hey, you already did. Now I got stuff to think about, good memories and stories, even if they're not mine."

Helen smiled. "You want some ABC Gum?"

"Already Been Chewed? I'm not that stupid!"

"No, not like that. When you blow bubbles, they come out shaped like letters of the alphabet."

"This I gotta see," Marie said, holding out her hand. "Bring it on."

Helen laid a stick in her friend's hand, then unwrapped one for herself. "We play this game at home," she said around the wad in her mouth. "We blow bubbles and come up with a name from the initials they make. Wanna try?"

"Sure, why not."

Helen blew an H, and Marie a P. "Me!" Helen exclaimed. "Helen Potter! Or my dad, his name's Harry."

"My turn," said Marie. "C and D, ummm... Charles Dickens!"

The game speeded up, with both girls calling out answers, ranging from well-known to silly.

"W.C., Winston Churchill," Helen said.

"Or water closet," Marie offered. They both laughed so hard they had trouble blowing bubbles for a moment.

"M.T., Margaret Thatcher!" said Marie, at the same moment Helen said, "Mr. Tibbles!"

"Mr. Tibbles?" Marie stared at Helen. "Who the heck is Mr. Tibbles?"

"A friend of mine has a lot of cats, and she keeps photos of them," Helen explained. "One of her cats was named Mr. Tibbles."

"Oh, I love cats," Marie said. "You had a couple of beauties out on the playground. Where'd they come from, anyway?"

"Well, you need to understand something," Helen said, grinning. "That was my mum, my real mum, and my Grandma Minnie, the Headmistress at my new school. They can turn into cats."

"Wow," Marie breathed. "That would be amazing. I wish I could do that."

"How old are you?" Helen asked, wondering if there was a chance her friend was also a witch.

"Thirteen. Most people guess younger 'cause I'm small."

Helen sighed, but she knew it wasn't too much of a loss. She had a lot of witch friends already – it would make a nice change to have a Muggle friend. "Let's keep going."

"Okay. C.W."

"C.W. Hmmmm." Helen looked thoughtfully at the bubbles.

"Come on, Fireball, this one's not so hard," said a voice from the corner.

Marie squealed. "Oh my God, there's somebody over there!"

"Uncle Charlie!" Helen tumbled off the bed and ran to the corner of the room. "You scared us!"

Laughing, Charlie Weasley allowed himself to emerge from the whitewashed wall and fended off Helen's mock attacks.

A door slammed somewhere up the hall. Everyone jumped, and Marie whimpered slightly at the sound of footsteps and furious voices.

Charlie just got himself re-Disillusioned before the door of the room, already unlatched, slammed into the wall beyond it.

Helen's father, her mother, and the Headmaster entered the room in an angry-looking cluster.

"Are you responsible for this, young woman?" asked the Headmaster in a very quiet voice, handing Helen a piece of paper.

Helen began to read.

_Headmaster Lutch:_

_Greetings. My name is Harry Potter, and you are keeping my daughter in your school against my wishes. As my wife Ginevra informed you, I will be taking corrective measures immediately. _

_I have recently received word that my authorities are willing to overlook whatever my friends and I choose to do here tonight, on the conditions that there be no permanent damage to life or property, and that we provide them with photographs. However, with the kind of power that we have, permanent damage is something of a flexible concept._

_I've also been informed that your given name is Thomas. I'm delighted, since my team has an excellent record against sadistic megalomaniacs named Tom. _

_My wife and I will arrive in your office tomorrow morning to discuss Helen's guardianship with you and the Dursley family. _

_Enjoy your night. It should be an eventful one._

"How dare you do this, you ungrateful little sneak," hissed her father, his face a horrid shade of maroon. "After we gave you life, fed you and clothed you for eleven years, how dare you try and run off with those freaks?"

Helen displayed her hand to her father in a position universally understood to be disapproving.

Strangled sounds emerged from the corner of the room.

-----

(A/N: I know. That update schedule is just a big crock of... stuff, isn't it?

Kraeg001: Oh. Oh, my. ::blush::

Gyre: Yes, he has, hasn't he? Thanks for the idea. Let's see where it leads, eh?

Annikaya: Welcome to my list, and thank you!

athenakitty: Yes, Dudley does seem to attract pranks... and as for Harry enjoying himself, hmm, I wonder... "Oh, look, it's my big ugly Muggle cousin who used to beat me up, and now I get to scare the living daylights out of him..." I'm usually a very nice person, but I have NO sympathy for Dudley. He deserves whatever he gets.

CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur: Who needs sleep? Fan fic is so much more fun... (And just in case I've never said this, that is one outrageous handle you've got.)

Lady Cinnibar: Yay! You like me! Oh no... I'm encouraging computer larceny! J/k. Thanks for being willing to do slightly unlawful things to follow my work!

Joshua: Greatness?! ::big blush:: It may not be next chapter (well, this chapter now, so it's not) but trust me, it will be worth the wait...

Silhouette of Sin: Thanks. Hope she's not too sweetsie to be realistic.

Sneezy Mouse: Wow! My longest review ever! Thank you so much. My parents considered naming me Helen, so the name has kind of been rattling around my consciousness as long as I've been alive, and I finally found the perfect character to give it to.

As for the children's names, I figure, why insult Harry's intelligence? Let him have some creativity. Yes, Ruby was named after Rubeus Hagrid, but as they say, the people who matter don't mind, and the people who mind don't matter. And I shall attempt to turn it into a series... eventually...

bewitched: Left you till last on purpose, since you brought up two slightly tough points. I'm not quite sure what you mean by anything else. Other fan fics, yes – see my author page. Other stories, originals – heavens yes, but nothing published, yet. With fan fic, you guys will forgive me my rough edges, but if it's an original work, I want it to be perfect. Why? Would you read something by me?

And Marcie. Thank you for the praise, but I can take only as much credit for Marcie as JKR can for Gilderoy Lockhart, and for exactly the same reason. I only dare to put her in my stories because: (1) She thinks Harry Potter is utterly beneath her, and I doubt she knows fan fiction exists, so she'll never read this, and (2) Even if she did, it's Lockhart again – she would NEVER recognize herself.

Note to everyone: I have decided to let my inner Slytherin come out and play. Heh heh heh.

If my other fic, Resonance, reaches a total of 15 reviews by Wednesday, I will post the next chapter of Home early (says the woman who can't stop writing). If not, you'll just have to wait until Friday. That's why I'm posting this early, to give you all time to R&R...

Ha. I'm posting it early b/c I'm a review junkie and I'm avoiding doing my homework.

Enjoy!)


	17. The Price

Chapter 17: The Price

"_Where_ did you learn _that?_" Marcie's face was scandalized. "Not in my house, you filthy child!"

"My brother taught me how to do it. Now go away. I was having fun, and you're spoiling it." Helen very deliberately turned her back on the three outraged people by the door and stalked back to her bed.

Charlie's stifled laughter broke loose at the expression on Dudley's face. Marie had her hand over her mouth as if afraid she might explode. Helen felt rather that way herself.

"What is that?" demanded the Headmaster, pointing at the corner. "Some other freakish thing you've brought in here?"

"Actually, it would be me," said Charlie, getting himself under control. It couldn't be easy for him, Helen thought, since Lutch and the Dursleys were now staring in his direction with looks of panic. "I'm Helen's invisible uncle. I'll be with her all day. And since you found it necessary to be rude, I think I'll give you just a foretaste of tonight..."

Helen couldn't see where he was pointing his wand, but she could see the results. Instead of its usual short dark hair, her mother's head was now coated with shining red scales, the exact color of the Chinese Fireball dragon.

Marcie shrieked, clutched at her head, and bolted out the door, Dudley right behind her. Headmaster Lutch gulped and started for the door himself.

"Lutch!" Charlie's voice was commanding. The Headmaster froze. "Leave the girls alone for the rest of the day, and we might – _might – _go easy on you tonight. But I guarantee this. It will be a night you won't ever forget. Now get out."

Helen and Marie couldn't even wait until the door was closed behind Lutch before breaking into almost hysterical giggles. "I think I love your invisible uncle!" Marie managed.

"That took guts, Fireball," said Charlie, reappearing and ruffling Helen's hair. "You just may be my very favorite niece."

Helen made a face at him. "You say that to all the girls."

Charlie knuckle-rubbed her head, then addressed Marie. "Now then, young lady, what might your name be?"

"Elliot, sir. Marie Elliot."

"Charlie Weasley." He offered his hand, and Marie shook hands with him, looking up at him in awe. "And this cousin who has custody of you, what's her name? I think you said it was a her?"

"Yes, sir. It's Rebecca Laburnum. She lives at 33 Watkin Street in London."

"Rebecca Laburnum, 33 Watkin Street, London. All right. Someone else will be here to stay with you girls in a minute or two. Please _try_ not to blow the place up before then."

The girls giggled.

"And I'm Uncle Charlie to you, Marie, not sir. If I may call you Marie."

Marie stared at him for a moment. "Of – of course, s – Uncle Charlie," she said unsteadily. "But – _why_?"

"I have so many nieces and nephews already, one more won't make any difference to me. And you're a friend of Helen's. I trust her judgment. She's certainly talented at choosing families."

With that, Charlie Disapparated.

"Helen?" Marie sounded as if she was scared, excited, worried, and hopeful, all at the same time. "Why'd he want to know about my cousin?"

Helen grinned in anticipation. "My family has a way of getting what they want. And they want you. I have a feeling 33 Watkin Street will have some unusual visitors tonight."

Marie's eyes had gone very big, and her face was pale. "They want me? Why?"

"Because you're my friend. And no one deserves to stay in a place like this. You can live with us until you find somewhere else to go."

"We've only been friends for fifteen minutes, and suddenly they're adopting me?"

"Runs in the family. When my dad was my age, he was willing to punch this nasty kid out because he insulted my dad's best friend."

"That has nothing to do with this. I'm not your best friend."

"But they'd only been friends for an hour or so when it happened. And maybe you're not my best friend, but you are my best friend who's not related to me. Right now I'm only better friends with Ruby and Minnie and the boys because I know them better. Maybe later on we'll turn into bests."

"But you're going away. You're going to witch school. And I'm not a witch, so I can't go."

"We can always be pen pals. And anywhere's better than here."

Marie sighed. "True. You have little brothers and a sister, you said?"

"Right. The boys are going on 9, 6, and 5, and Mary Jane is 4. They're sweet kids. You'll love them."

Marie smiled slightly. "I do like kids. I'm good with them, too. I always used to baby-sit to earn extra pocket money. So I can do something to earn my keep, instead of freeloading."

Helen shrugged. "If it'll make you feel better."

Marie nodded firmly. "It will. Trust me."

_Pop._

"Hello, girls."

"Granddad!" Helen ran to him and hugged him. "Marie, this is my granddad, Arthur Weasley. Granddad, my friend Marie Elliot."

"Very pleased to meet you, Miss Elliot." Arthur bowed over her hand, and Marie smiled at him a little shyly.

"Tell us a story, Granddad? Marie hasn't heard any of your stories."

"All right. Which one would you like?"

"The flying car, the flying car!" It was Helen's favorite story of all time.

"Flying _car_?" Marie repeated in a disbelieving tone. "This I gotta hear!"

"All right then. This is the story of how three young wizards went against laws and rules to save their friend from a terrible fate with the help of their father's flying Ford Anglia..."

-----

When Charlie's story was told, Percy, Penelope, and Hermione, as the most knowledgeable about paperwork and Muggle ways, betook themselves to London to speak with one Ms. Rebecca Laburnum about her young ward. As Ron said, "After an hour of listening to Percy, _I'd_ give him anything he wanted."

"Maybe we should have let him loose on the Dursleys, then," Fred suggested.

"Wouldn't work," Harry said. "Percy's so much of a bureaucrat that they'd see him as that, instead of as a wizard, and then they'd feel comfortable around him and start getting rude and making demands. We need them off balance to get them to agree to anything."

"Harry, dear?" Molly Weasley came over to them. "It's starting to look like rain. Perhaps we should move inside. Find an empty classroom and wait there."

Thunder rumbled in the distance.

"That sounds like an excellent idea," Harry said, getting up. "Come on, everyone. Somebody leave a note for the others for when they get back. We're moving this party indoors."

Disillusioned, the group of wizards and witches hurried down the hill, Apparated past the fence and the extremely wary door guard, and established themselves in a fairly large classroom on the ground floor, with a good view of the yard. Bill took over dealing the cards, and Fleur engaged the rest of the women in conversation about the newest line of robes from Gladrags.

Harry conjured himself a comfortable chair and sat down to watch the storm. A thump beside him told him another of the team had joined him. As she pulled her chair forward, he saw it was Minerva McGonagall. They sat in silence, watching the rain begin to fall and the first flashes of lightning.

Finally she spoke. "Harry, when you requested my help with this project, I told you there would be a price."

"And I told you I'd pay it, Minerva," Harry answered. It still felt a little odd to him to call her by her first name, but she had insisted he do so ever since the day he had married Ginny. It had been the day after Ron had married Hermione, so that they could be best man and maid of honor (or matron, in Hermione's case) for one another.

"Indeed. Without asking what it would be. I'm flattered at your trust, Harry, but it may have been misplaced."

Harry's shoulders sagged. _Oh no._ "You wouldn't."

"I most certainly would. Hogwarts will be thrilled to have you with us this fall, Professor Potter."

Harry rolled his eyes. "You want me to teach my own son and daughters and who knows how many of my nieces and nephews, along with a horde of wizard-born children who consider me a hero. The girls will organize fan clubs and write bad poetry to me and the boys will try to impress me by doing stupid things in the hallways and on the Quidditch pitch. Are you _sure_ you want me on your staff?"

"Yes. Because you are the most experienced wizard in Defense Against the Dark Arts alive today."

Harry winced. The phrase brought up painful memories. "Not by my choice, Minerva. Never by my choice. I would have died for Dumbledore, for Neville, but I never had the chance. They tricked me, you know that."

"And because they tricked you and died for you, you were able to do what no one else could. You vanquished Voldemort. He will never take another innocent life. Your children will never know the kind of fear you did. That is what Albus and Neville died for, Harry, and you know that."

Harry sighed. "You're right. As usual. How do you manage that?"

"Practice, Professor Potter. Years and years of practice. You'll get it eventually."

"Nothing's settled yet, Minerva. I need to talk it over with Ginny."

Minerva smiled, the extremely smug smile of a cat who has stolen not only the cream but the cow. "Were you aware that Filius Flitwick has recently retired?"

"Erm... no." Harry didn't like the direction of this conversation.

"He told me once that Ginevra Weasley was one of the most promising students he had ever had the fortune to teach. When he came to me with his letter of resignation, he added that she had fulfilled her promise admirably. She certainly has no trouble dealing with children, since your son Sirius respects and obeys her – and no one else, it sometimes seems."

Harry groaned. "And, of course, you've already asked her if she might be willing to take a position as Charms teacher."

Minerva nodded matter-of-factly. "We've done some shuffling and remodeling to give you a suite. Master bedroom, three smaller bedrooms for your boys, a nursery with a nanny's room – Arabella Figg might like the job, if you can stand her cats – living room, and private bath. Even a small kitchen, if you don't care to eat in the Hall, and Dobby has volunteered to be assigned to you permanently, so you won't be burdened with housework."

"I knew it. Always conspiracies." Harry glared around the edge of his chair at Ginny, who waved innocently at him. "So. Two Professors Potter. Won't that be confusing for you, Minerva?"

"I'll manage," Minerva said.

Harry could practically hear her purring.

-----

(A/N: Gah. Too much presidential debate. Need to post chapter early.

Sorry to disappoint everyone, but Marie is not a witch. If she were, she would have gotten her letter when she was eleven, and she is thirteen. But stay tuned, and remember, I'm a sucker for reviews...

To everyone who reads but does not review, I say: (1) if you liked it, please, just drop me a few words to say so – there is no such thing as a stupid review, except a mean one, and (2) _Tukyni nur osaka em tukyne puk yl ebuntir!_

And if you ask me really nicely, I might even tell you what it means.

To my loyal reviewers:

Kraeg001: See, my writing is a three-step process. (1) Think about what you want to say. (2) Think like character. (3) Let 'er rip. Sometimes the most amazing things come out. Everything you mentioned in your review was a product of this technique – except the ABC Gum, which was prompted by a phone call from my 12-year-old brother. I just thought like Harry, and (IMHO) he has a wicked sense of humor, a good grasp of wordplay, and no ability to judge when he's going to get himself tickled for saying something.

Gyre: Oh yeah. :: big evil grin::

athenakitty: Yeah, they'll look the other way... if they get pictures later. This could have bad repercussions in the future, if Ministry officials are so easily bribed.

Caprice-Ann HedicanKocur: Hockey and sleep... two things I have not personally experienced in a while.

Nalini213: Hint: Max was named by his mom. Aww, isn't that cute... you found my plot bunny that ran away! You can keep her, though – I got a new one. ::wink wink::

Lady Cinnibar: But that's what brothers are for, isn't it? And how would you react if your cute little 11-year-old niece just flipped somebody off?

Joshua: Be careful what you wish for.

bewitched: Thank you – I'll remember that. Maybe someday I'll get an original fic site!

Thanks everyone for responses!)


	18. Muggles and Their Afternoons

Chapter 18: Muggles and Their Afternoons

It was the worst afternoon Tom Lutch could remember.

He had cancelled all the classes for the day and sent the students to watch television (he was utterly relieved that some of the televisions still worked). Five fights broke out, four among the students and one among the professors. He had to break that one up personally.

He had told the professors what he knew – that they were under attack by a bunch of nuts who seemed to have some kind of supernatural powers, that the gates were locked and all the phones and computers were fried. Someone had suggested calling out on a cell phone, but there was some kind of interference going and no one could get a signal.

And the Dursley family wasn't being much help. The woman's hair had returned after about ten minutes, but she appeared to have been traumatized by the happening and wasn't responding to anyone. The son was watching TV with the students and stuffing his face with the snacks Lutch had had sent up from the kitchen. He had been a little worried at first – after all, these kids were a rough crowd – but after a few shoves and yells, the boy had fit right in.

The man of the family, meanwhile, was sitting beside his wife in the dormitory where she was curled up on a bed shivering, saying things like "I knew he'd be back, I just knew it." He had explained the situation to the Headmaster as best he could, and the story was, frankly, unbelievable. Wizards and magic did not fit into the orderly world of Tom Lutch.

But there was no other explanation.

Privately, Lutch decided that if these Potter people could provide any kind of evidence that the girl was theirs, he was going to let her go. He couldn't handle this much trouble. Not even for the tuition Dursley had indicated he'd be willing to pay.

It felt as if the afternoon would never end.

-----

It was the best afternoon Marie Elliot could remember.

Helen's grandfather told them the most amazing stories. Some were about his twin sons, Helen's uncles, the ones who had made all the fun sweets Helen had in her bag, and the stuff they had done at school. Marie laughed for five minutes over the swamp in the hallway. Others were about Helen's dad and the adventures he had gone on with his two best friends, Helen's aunt and uncle. She thought it would be fun to ride a hippogriff, though she felt rather nervous when its talons and beak were described.

Marie called him Granddad, the way Helen did, and was rather sorry to see him go when a grandmotherly woman popped out of nowhere to tell him he was needed upstairs. She was apparently his wife, since they kissed before he left, and Helen introduced her as "Grandmum."

"Why Grandmum?" Marie wondered aloud. She had never heard a grandmother called that.

"Oh, yes." Mrs. Weasley smiled reminiscently. "When my oldest grandson, Craig, Fred and Angelina's boy, was just a baby – he's fifteen now, he'll be starting his fifth year at Hogwarts in the fall – Arthur, that's Helen's granddad, bought him this... oh, Helen, do help me, what is it called?"

"A video, Grandmum." Helen was grinning – of course she would know this one.

"Yes, a video, that's right. So he bought Craig this video, which had a story on it, and in the story, the little children called their grandmother Grandmum. It was an American production, and the children were American, but the grandmother was supposed to be English. Rather odd, actually... you could never see her face... but it was a funny story. All done in pictures, about flying penguins and talking vacuum cleaners."

"Animated," Helen whispered to Marie.

"But at any rate, Craig loved it, and he wanted to watch it over and over, and he got the idea from this that I was his Grandmum, so that's all he would call me. And then when the other children started coming, I was so used to being Grandmum that that's what I was, and that's what I remain. And that's what you will call me, too, dear, if you know what's good for you." She rapped Marie's knuckles with her wand, pretending to be severe, and the girls giggled.

The stories Grandmum told them were similar to Granddad's, except that they had more editorial commentary on the "Well-wasn't-that-silly-of-them" lines. Marie tried to imagine walking through a solid barrier at a train station, or riding on a huge purple bus, or dodging a tree that tried to hit her. She was fascinated by the new world being built out of words in front of her.

Later, when Aunt Angelina and Aunt Alicia began to tell her about Quidditch, she was more than fascinated – she was utterly enthralled.

"Witches really ride brooms then?"

"Oh, yes. And wizards too, of course." That was Aunt Angelina.

"And they really fly?"

"All over the place," Aunt Alicia said. "It can be hard not to be noticed, though, so if we're going somewhere, we tend to use the Floo Network."

Of course, that necessitated another round of explanations, and Marie felt as dizzy as if she'd just done what they described by the time they finished.

"But isn't this all secret?"

"Very secret, usually."

"Then why do _I_ get to know all about it? I'm not so special. I mean, I'm just a normal kid. I'll never fly on a broomstick or play Quidditch or travel through a fireplace. Why me?"

The aunts looked at each other. Marie could almost hear them thinking. _Why _are_ we telling her this stuff? What good could she possibly be? She's a Muggle, after all..._

Muggle was another word they had taught her. It meant someone like her, someone without magic. _Someone who's not special._

She waited, her heart sinking, for them to tell her kindly that they had made a mistake, or to laugh in her face and disappear with Helen and leave her there.

"I suppose," said Aunt Alicia slowly, "that we're getting you ready."

"Ready for what?"

"For your new life, girl," said Aunt Angelina impatiently. "Unless you like it here," she added, waving her hand at the cheerless room.

"No! No, I hate it here..." Marie stopped as she realized what the woman was saying.

"Told you so," Helen said apparently to herself, smiling cheekily at the ceiling.

"You mean... you're really going to... take me too?"

"Let's see," Aunt Alicia said, ticking points off on her fingers. "You hate it here. You're good with children. And you're Helen's friend – Weasleys and Potters never leave their friends behind."

"No, they marry them," Aunt Angelina said, chuckling.

"Or adopt them," Helen said.

Aunt Alicia smacked them both and continued. "So consider yourself adopted, Marie. Muggle or magical, you're part of the family now. Welcome."

Marie surprised everyone, including herself, by bursting into tears.

She wished the afternoon would never end.

-----

It was the oddest afternoon Rebecca Laburnum could remember.

She was in her living room, enjoying the latest offering from the Book-of-the-Month club, when the doorbell rang. She answered it.

Three people stood on her doorstep, two women and a man. They said they wanted to discuss her ward, Marie Elliot, and could they please come in. Naturally, she let them in and offered them tea. They accepted politely and introduced themselves. She thought Weasley something of an odd name, but of course she said nothing of the sort.

"Let us come to the point, Ms. Laburnum," said Percy Weasley, sitting carefully in one of her best armchairs, teacup in hand. "Your ward is currently attending Goldenrod Academy, is that correct?"

"Yes, that's right."

"If she were to change schools," said Penelope, gently stirring her tea, the spoon _tink_ing against the cup. "If she were to, perhaps, enter vocational training somewhere..." _Tink._ "...at no cost to you, of course..." _Tink._ "...would you have an objection?" _Tink._

"At no cost to me?" This had to be some kind of scam. Or perhaps they were investigators. Yes, that would be it. Rebecca felt her stomach tightening. _I have done nothing legally wrong,_ she reminded herself. _I had every right to send the girl away._

"I assure you, Ms. Laburnum, we have no ulterior motives." That was the other woman, Hermione or whatever her name was. "But we may be misinformed. Would you mind telling us why, exactly, you felt it necessary to send Marie away?"

"She was violent. She threatened a boy at school with a knife."

"In self-defense," Penelope put in, still apparently focused on her teacup.

"Do you still draw income from Marie's trust fund, Ms. Laburnum?"

There it was. They must be investigating her. _Be calm_, she ordered herself. "Yes, I draw the income. To pay the girl's tuition."

"And buy a few things for yourself?" Percy's wave took in the neatly furnished house, the cutting-edge entertainment center, the paintings on the walls.

"There's nothing wrong with that. I use only the interest."

"Quite a lot of money involved, then, isn't there?" asked Hermione.

"The girl's parents were well-off. Mostly inherited, I believe. I was only her father's second cousin, I never knew the family very well. But I was the only relative they could find. The only one on the books." God, she was babbling. She had to stop.

"The only one on the books?" Percy inquired, taking a sip of his tea. "Are you saying the girl has other relatives?"

"I... I honestly don't know. I think her parents must have been part of some kind of cult, because... the story was that the girl just appeared in the police station, she was just a baby, with a note attached to her clothes, giving her name and saying her parents were dead and she had to be taken care of. And when they found me, they gave me this sealed letter that had been with her, it had instructions all about how to deal with anything unusual that she did and some special school and a letter that would come, but nothing ever happened, and I didn't know what to do!"

All three of them were staring at her. Rebecca realized she'd been on her feet, shouting. She sank back into her chair. "Please, forgive me. I... am not good with children. Marie was very difficult for me to deal with..."

Penelope held up a hand. "Ms. Laburnum, it's quite all right. We understand perfectly."

"A Squib," Hermione breathed. Or at least Rebecca thought she did. She had no idea what it meant, though. "She must be a Squib."

"Yes, I remember the Elliots now," Percy said reflectively. "They broke up that gang of renegade wizards in South London, and the survivors ambushed them in their home. They must have had enough warning to get the girl away. We always just assumed she'd been killed with her parents."

"They were living undercover as Muggles," Penelope said. "They had their Gringotts accounts transferred, I assume. That must be the source of the trust fund."

Rebecca had stopped trying to understand. She was too busy attempting not to panic.

"Ms. Laburnum."

She looked up at the Hermione woman.

"Ms. Laburnum, we belong to the same cult, as you call it, that Marie's parents did. As such, we have the power to end Marie's trust fund. We can split the principal in half, giving half to you for your trouble and keeping half for Marie to live on until she comes of age. Marie becomes our problem. You never have to worry about her again. Is this an acceptable arrangement?"

Rebecca nodded dumbly.

"In that case, we just need your signature on these," said Percy, taking a stack of papers out of his briefcase. "They transfer legal guardianship to us, or rather to my brother, who is the one actually interested in Marie..."

A few minutes later, Rebecca Laburnum had signed guardianship of Marie Elliot over to someone named George Weasley. Her unusual visitors took their leave, Penelope pausing on the threshold to wave a stick around the room. A moment later, the teacups were clean.

"This never happened," she said mildly to Rebecca, and vanished.

Rebecca almost fell into a chair. _It's over. It's really over. _

Her conscience niggled at her. _How do you know they're trustworthy? How do you know they're telling the truth?_

_I don't,_ she told it, squashing it firmly down into place. _And, as crass and horrid as it makes me, I don't care. Marie is finally off my hands, and I have enough left to live on, and I'm not entirely ruined. Let them take care of the wretched girl. I wish them much joy of her._

_Lord, I thought this afternoon was never going to end._

-----

(A/N: Satisfied, everyone who asked about Marie?

Joshua, this one's for you!

Gyre: Minerva wants to answer this one herself. **Why, thank you, kind sir. It was rather devious of me, wasn't it? Oh yes, and a very happy birthday to me on this October 4. ::purr::**

Kraeg001: See Molly's story in this chapter for details.

Lady Cinnibar: All my experience is colored by being several years the oldest (the next one down is 12). Yes, I do think Harry and Ginny as professors will be enjoyable. And think of the little ones running around Hogwarts. Small child in the Slytherin common room wreaking havoc, what?

athenakitty: Recheck your character names, I think you may be mixed up – and aren't there always?

Caprice-Ann HedicanKocur: From experience ("The Letters from No One"), I would say Hogwarts doesn't take no for an answer gracefully. But that wasn't really a refusal, it was just a failure to answer, and about Harry Potter, no less. So, good try, see above...

violingirl7: Insults, m'dear, not threats, insults. As I said, ask very nicely (and review my other fic) and I shall provide a translation.

acatm: Thanks! Not meaning any disrespect to JKR, but I had a very similar experience to hers... Helen walked into my head one night while I was doing something else and said "Hello, I'm Dudley Dursley's daughter and I'm a witch, what are you going to do about it?"

Dumbledore: No kidding! Thanks – I'm doing my best!

Melboriel: You're very astute; I'm American and guessing. I hope the explanation in this chapter is all right. Thank you for the compliments. I'm afraid I couldn't resist the chance to have a big Weasley family reunion. It seems very in character – if they heard that someone they cared about was in trouble, I think they'd all want to help.

JeanMarie, Harm Marie, harryp123: Thank you!

If the afternoon is over, you know what that means... night is coming...

The fun starts soon, I promise!

Thanks everyone for all your great reviews! I'm into 3 digits now! Yay!)


	19. Final Preparations

Chapter 19: Final Preparations

The cards had been put away and the chitchat ended. The large classroom was quietly abuzz with purposeful activity.

Bill and Charlie had scouted the school and drawn up floor plans, complete with labels to show where different people were. Remus had then charmed the plans so that every five minutes, a spell went through the school and moved the labels to reflect where the people were at that time. The result was similar to the Marauder's Map, though not as real-time as that venerable creation. The three of them, along with Ron, were bent over the plans, talking quietly and filling in what appeared to be a timetable.

Fleur was not among them at the moment, having had a terrible premonition that something was wrong at home. Fred and George had also left for a while, returning with amazing amounts of certain of their sweets. Harry remembered when Molly Weasley had been utterly scandalized by her sons opening a joke shop. Now she was all attention as they explained to her what the different beans, bars, puffs, and pops did. Occasionally she would make a suggestion. Arthur was sitting nearby, wondering, from the enraptured look on his face, what kinds of machinery he could take apart in the course of the night.

Minerva was investigating what would happen if she transfigured all the legs of the chairs and desks into animal legs. The results were promising – the horse-legged desk was actually galloping around the room. Ginny was working on charming the school's supply of chalk to write rude words on the walls. Harry was slightly surprised by the number of them she knew.

Harry was getting ready to relieve Angelina and Alicia on girl-watching duty when someone knocked on the door. "Come in," called several voices at once.

Harry wondered what would happen if the door opened to reveal a Muggle, one of the professors perhaps, or even a Dursley. _Might be funny._

As Percy, Penelope, and Hermione entered, Harry gave himself a mental dope-slap for forgetting. The door had been enchanted so that only a witch or wizard could find it. _Very useful spell,_ Minerva had commented after casting it. _I often use it on my broomstick when I travel long distances._

"Hermione, my love, come to me," said Ron dramatically, flinging his arms open wide. "I need you terribly."

"Why?" Hermione asked practically, taking off her damp cloak.

Ron sighed. "Just once, couldn't you play along?"

Hermione gave him a sharp look. "Not in front of your mother."

George choked on the No-Nose Nibble he was demonstrating.

Ron chuckled. "You are our timetable expert, though, 'Mione. How is this looking?"

"Not too bad for a preliminary," Hermione said, scanning the parchment, "but you're going to need to double-check this with everyone."

"I know that," Ron said. "Like you said, this is just for starters. We'll be editing a lot. Harry, this look good to you?"

Harry took the parchment from Hermione. The exact moment of moonrise, 8:53 pm, was noted as the official opening of the prank season. Remus was scheduled to transform, in sight of as many Muggles as possible – the Dursleys if it could be managed – and give them something that looked like "a thunking good howl", but it was in Ron's handwriting and therefore could have been almost anything. The pranks proceeded from there, and the ones Harry could read looked highly amusing.

There was a note in the margin, also in Ron's writing, with Harry's name attached – something about a snake. _Maybe they want me to do a Parseltongue demonstration. That ought to scare Dudley's socks off._

"I don't see any obvious problems," he said, handing the timetable back to Ron. "Only, what's 'thunking' mean?"

"That says 'thumping,'" Ron said, looking annoyed.

"OK, doesn't matter," said Harry placatingly. "Looks fine, Ron. Just tell me where I need to be and when."

"Will do," said Ron, looking relieved.

"Harry, are you really sure you're willing to do this?" asked Remus.

"Why? Should I not be?"

Remus shrugged. "Just checking." He looked back at the floor plans, which had just updated themselves, and beckoned Percy over to point something out to him.

"See you in a little while, love," said Ginny, twining her arms around Harry's neck. "You're getting the girls their supper, and I'm putting them to bed, right?"

"As much as anyone can put two overexcited preteens to bed, yes."

"I'll manage," Ginny said. "What's that spell to conjure a sledgehammer again?"

Harry laughed. "Go teach some more chalk how to write POO," he said, kissing his adorable wife on the cheek. "I'll be back in an hour or so."

He Disapparated.

"And he put on a little more speed and... caught it!" Aunt Alicia said, clapping her own hands shut on nothing.

"The crowd went utterly wild, of course," said Aunt Angelina. "Everyone except the Slytherins was screaming for joy. The Slytherins were just screaming."

"Wood made record time up the pitch," said Aunt Alicia. "He was bawling like a baby. Almost knocked Harry off his broom. Then Fred and George nearly killed the pair of them."

"We weren't much better," Aunt Angelina recalled. "We just had less mass. And we yelled all the way to the ground. Percy was jumping up and down, remember?"

"Only time I've ever seen him undignified," said Aunt Alicia, giggling.

"So that's how Gryffindor won the Quidditch Cup," Aunt Angelina finished. Helen had heard the story many times before, but she always loved to hear it again, and of course Marie had never heard it.

"Tell us another one? Please?" Helen begged.

"No, I don't think so," said a voice from the doorway.

"_Dad!_" Helen ran into her dad's open arms. He hugged her back as hard as she was hugging him, which resulted in both of them needing to stop for breath within a short time.

"Dad, this is Marie Elliot. Marie, my dad, Harry Potter."

"Pleased to meet you, Marie."

"Likewise, sir."

"We're going upstairs, Harry," said Aunt Alicia. "See you there?"

"Eventually," said her dad.

"Bye, girls," said Aunt Angelina. "See you in the morning."

They both vanished.

"So," said Harry, sitting down on the floor, "I understand you like children, Marie."

"Yes, sir," Marie said. "I love them, and I'm good with them. I think I want to be a teacher or something like that when I grow up."

"Have you ever thought of becoming a nanny? Living with a family full-time, taking care of their children, becoming like a part of the family yourself?"

Marie shook her head. "I didn't know you could, anymore," she said. "It sounds like something out of _Mary Poppins_. I mean, old-fashioned."

"Well, wizards tend to be somewhat old-fashioned. I'm sure Helen has told you about us, about her brothers and sisters."

Marie nodded.

"Helen's mother and I have both been offered teaching jobs at Helen's school, Hogwarts. We've accepted. The jobs require us to live in the castle, and for us both to live there, we'll need to bring the children with us. Since we'll both be working, we need someone to take care of them while we're on the job. We have an old family friend who could do part of the work, but she's getting on in years. I thought we might offer a secondary position to you."

Helen's and Marie's mouths were both hanging open by the end of this speech. They both spoke at the same time.

"You're teaching? You and Mum both?"

"A nanny for you? And work at Helen's school?"

"Yes. To everything."

The girls looked at each other with speculation in their eyes. Then they turned back to him.

"I don't know what to say, sir." Marie was unable to suppress her smile. "Except, thank you, and I accept."

"Who else are you getting, Dad?" Helen wanted to know. "Mrs. Figg?"

Harry smiled. "Very good, Helen. You'll make a Ravenclaw yet."

"Psssh." Helen waved her hand dismissively. "Gryffindor or bust!"

"That's my girl," Harry said approvingly. "Now, are you two hungry? I know I am."

Helen nodded. Now that she thought about it, she had missed lunch, and candy was good, but it couldn't really replace a meal.

"Yes, sir," said Marie vigorously. "The food here is terrible, though."

"That's why we won't eat it." Harry waved his wand through the air as if sketching. Marie watched in amazement as a table and three chairs materialized from nowhere. "_Accio MREs!_" Three packages appeared on the table.

"MREs?" Helen asked.

"Magically Ready Eats. Fred and George got the idea from a Muggle invention, but these are much better."

"Did they use Grandmum's recipes?" Helen asked after she tasted her food.

"Probably," Harry said. "She's warmed up to the joke shop a lot since Fred 'accidentally' dropped the parchment with their profit totals for the year where she could see it."

After supper, Harry told the girls the story of his second Triwizard task, when he had grown gills and swum through a lake full of merpeople to retrieve his best friend. When the merpeople tried to stop him from saving a little girl whose champion hadn't come, Marie gasped aloud, and both girls cheered when rescuer and rescued made it safely to the surface of the lake.

"And now that you've got them all wound up, I'm supposed to settle them down, I suppose," said the red-haired woman who had just Apparated in.

"Mum!" Helen catapulted across the room to hug her.

"Settle down, love, it's not as if you haven't seen me yet today," said Ginny, returning her daughter's embrace.

"She was worse with me," Harry said, vanishing the dinner table and chairs with a flick of his wand. "Probably because she hadn't." He ruffled his daughter's hair and gave his wife a quick kiss. "See you upstairs, love. Sleep well, Helen, Marie. See you in the morning."

"Bed already?" Marie asked Helen in the washroom. "It's not even eight-thirty yet."

"They want us asleep before they start taking this place apart," Helen said. She had experience with her parents' ways. "But they'll take pictures, I bet. And magical photos _move_."

"Cool!"

Ginny had a bedtime snack ready for them when they returned – cookies and milk, which Helen suspected was laced with some kind of Sleeping Potion. She drank it anyway, knowing that her mum would find some other way of putting her to sleep if she didn't, and she probably wouldn't like it.

Sure enough, within a few minutes, both she and Marie were yawning. Her bed looked very desirable, even if it was rather narrow and lumpy. Anyway, all she had to do was mention that, and her mum fixed it right away, and Marie's too. _I'm lucky to have a magic family,_ she thought sleepily.

"Would you like me to sing to you?" Ginny asked.

"Yeah," said Helen, pulling Griffy up beneath her chin.

"Yeah," Marie echoed. "You have a pretty voice, Mrs. Potter."

Helen saw her mum smile. "Thank you very much, Marie. "Tender Shepherd", Helen?"

Helen nodded. It was her favorite, after all.

Ginny began to sing, and her sweet voice lulled both girls to sleep.

* * *

(A/N: Keep your eyes open for Chapter 20: Operation Goldenrod, coming soon to a website near you! Also, notice that Ron's p's look like k's to Harry...

Kraeg001: Hope you'll like him even more when you get to know him. And it's already dead, dude. Or at least hibernating. ;-)

Gyre: Nope, Percy's just a career bureaucrat. But we do need lawyers, despite Shakespeare's words to the contrary. I rather like the idea of Hermione being a lawyer, which I've seen in several fics, but in this world, at the moment, she's an Auror with Harry and Ron.

harryp123: I always enjoy trying to get the most out of your opening adjective. Thanks for the review. :-)

Caprice-Ann HedicanKocur: Yes, I'd say you are watching too much TV. But I would ask all my loyal readers to remember in PS/SS Neville's story about his uncle testing him for magic. Now ask yourselves this: What if no one had tested him:giggles with glee at readers' uncertainty:

Joshua: Yes, the title of Chapter 18 was supposed to be humorous – I finished writing it and realized it was the same afternoon from three Muggle POV's. For answer to your question, see above. And I would like to think that if I had made Marie a witch, I would have used a sophisticated and professional plot device, thank you very much. :grin:

Annikaya: I think magic scares Marie at this point in time. She loves seeing it, but having it would be too much.

Silhouette of Sin: Thanks!

Sorry for late update, everyone. This time the excuse is the other way around – I'm home with my family, so I have to do family things, and we also have to share this computer. The Saturday Resonance update and the Monday Home may be a bit late as well, but they WILL go up ASAP. I promise. And I _am _planning on updating Extenuating Circumstances, as soon as I get a chance.

Hope to hear from everyone soon!)


	20. Operation Goldenrod

(This chapter's "Astute Fan" award goes to Nalini213. Congratulations! See bottom for details on your prize!)

Chapter 20: Operation Goldenrod

Only when both girls were breathing deeply and evenly, with their wrists bonelessly flopping back to the mattress when lifted and dropped, did Ginny feel safe Disapparating. She had once been fooled by her oldest son in the matter of his being asleep, and that had resulted in an explosion that had nearly demolished the house. She had no wish to be tricked again.

She Apparated into the middle of an argument.

"You did NOT tell me what this thing was going to do!" shouted Percy at two of his brothers.

Who both looked, as far as Ginny could see, exactly like him.

She stared around the room.

Percy seemed to have multiplied himself by six. Her father and Remus looked bemused, her mother and Minerva amused, and her sisters-in-law confused.

_Oh Merlin. Fred and George must have modified the Metamorphmagus Mints. _

_Those poor Muggles. _

One of the Percys was standing by the wall with his arm around Penelope, wearing a very smug expression. _That's probably the real one. _Two others were bending over the floor plans. _Bill and Charlie, I bet. Which leaves Ron to be yelling at the twins, which makes sense. Percy would never actually be that rude._

"Nor did you tell me," said a voice from a figure in the corner of the room, a voice filled with annoyance, a voice Ginny knew far too well. She had taken six years of lessons with its owner, missing out on a seventh only due to the man's untimely death.

_What the... who is that?_

"We thought you read it on the timetable, mate," one of the twin-Percys said in a shaking voice. Ginny suspected it was shaking from suppressed laughter, not from fear.

"I thought that said 'snake'!" snapped the man. "I had no idea it meant –_ this_." He turned around, and Ginny covered her mouth as she realized the truth. _Harry – that's Harry – it must be, there's no one else missing – oh no, no, not even the twins would do this to him..._

But, quite obviously, they had.

"We wanted something menacing," said the other twin-Percy, plaintively. "And you're not really that menacing, Harry. No offense."

"And _he_ was," said the first twin-Percy. Ginny had to agree. Her husband had loathed the person whose face and form he now wore, and the feeling had been mutual, but the man had practically written the book on menacing. "Go on, Harry, give it a try-out."

"You want a try-out, Mr. Weasley?" hissed that familiar, oily voice. "I thought you were a prefect, yet you play foolish pranks. So now you are going to pay." The dungeon-pale hand reached into a pocket of his billowing robes and pulled out his wand. "And since I can't tell you apart from your brothers at the moment, I will simply have to curse all of you. So I suggest you run. All of you. Now."

All six Weasleys took off, wearing identical expressions of panic, dodging around the room and trying to avoid the hexes Harry sent after them. Everyone else surrendered unconditionally to hysterical laughter, except Ginny's father, who was regaining his composure every few moments long enough to take pictures before resuccumbing.

Ginny made a mental note to ask for a print. A photograph of six copies of her brother Percy being hexed by an irate Severus Snape was just too precious to resist.

Especially if you knew Snape was really Harry.

_Seamus and Dean ought to consider themselves paid from this one photo alone._

-----

After he had caught all the Weasleys with jinxes, Harry consented to show off his new form. With a little snap of his right hand, he made his cloak flip outward dramatically as he strode across the room, directly to Minerva McGonagall.

"Minerva," he breathed. "One of your students has caused a... disturbance in my class. He threw a firework into another student's cauldron, allowing one of his accomplices to sneak into my office and steal potion ingredients. I demand that he be expelled immediately."

"Really now, Severus," said Minerva, keeping her face calm with what must be a mighty effort, Ginny thought. "Do you have any proof of this?"

"I saw it happen!" insisted Harry-Snape in a virulent hiss.

"Very well," said McGonagall in a slightly strained voice. "A name, if you would, Severus. I'm not Sybil after all."

"Potter." The voice seemed to linger over the name, promising worlds of trouble for the one he spoke of.

"Harry, that was you?" Minerva asked, startled into dropping the act. "I remember that. It was your second year, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Harry said in Snape's voice. "It was Miss Granger who stole ingredients for a Polyjuice Potion. Which she brewed correctly, I might add. But that does not change the seriousness of the offense."

Minerva shook her head in disbelief. "Is _that_ how you ended up in hospital with whiskers and a tail?" she asked Hermione, who nodded, blushing furiously. "A Polyjuice transformation with animal fur used. There are some things a witch was simply not meant to know..."

"The moon is rising," Remus said into the awkward silence which followed. "We should get ready."

"Right," said the Percy whom Ginny suspected was Ron. "Is Fleur back yet?"

"Yes, 'ere I am," said Fleur, entering the room with her nine-month-old son Gabriel in her arms. "Ze baby, 'e was fussy, and I thought, I can play ze beautiful angel-mother in ze school full of devils, no?"

"Oh, yes," said Harry-Snape, stalking forward. "I think you will make an excellent addition to our plans, my dear."

The second perfect photo of the night was the shock and horror on Fleur's face as she saw Harry's new look.

"Er, right then," said Ron-Percy, looking uncomfortable, as Fleur finished scolding Harry-Snape in French. "Let's have a final review..."

The pranksters had been divided into pairings based on ability and attributes. Harry and Remus would work together, giving the Muggles the impression that the werewolf did what the scary-looking vampire man told it to do. Ron and Charlie, Bill and Percy, and Fred and George were the Weasley pairs – their missions were simply to cause chaos by seeming to be in three places at once. As Molly said, "The twins used to manage it all by themselves, I'm sure all of you can do an excellent job."

Molly's personal mission was to keep a watch on Arthur as he tinkered with the fascinating machines to be found all over the school. Ginny felt rather sorry for anyone who tried to use them after her father was done with them. Molly had also claimed the right to hex each of the Dursleys at least once over the course of the night.

The women had flatly refused to change their appearances, so they would be working with their beauty and spell-casting abilities alone. Hermione and Penelope were partnered, as were Angelina and Alicia. Fleur was a lone agent with plans of her own, mostly involving the male professors. Ginny and Minerva in their Animagus forms would be runners, keeping everyone updated on the progress of everyone else and helping out wherever necessary.

"Places, everyone," said Ron-Percy. "Operation Goldenrod commences in five minutes."

Within seconds, the room was empty.

-----

Marcie Dursley sat bolt upright and clutched at her head with both hands. Hair, her own plain simple ordinary hair.

She tried to force herself to relax, but her heart was hammering faster than ever after a look at her watch. _They said it would begin at night. It's almost nine o'clock now..._

There were footsteps in the hallway.

Dudley, a vast vague shape in a chair by her bedside, grunted a snore, then yelped as someone slammed the door open.

The lights in the room flickered to life.

Two identical people were revealed in the doorway, red-haired, supercilious-looking men wearing horn-rimmed glasses and loose blue robes, who stared at her as if she were the scum of the earth. Marcie was acutely aware that she'd been sleeping in her clothes and her hair was in disarray. Dudley looked horrified.

"Well, come on," said one of them in a bored voice.

"You don't want to miss the grand opening," said the other in the same tone.

Marcie discovered, to her dismay, that her body was obeying them, even as her mind shrieked _No! No!_ She moved out the door between them, Dudley in front of her, and walked down the hall with them behind her, feeling very much as if she were walking into a nightmare.

She saw the Headmaster – Lutch was his name, she thought – and a female professor scurrying down a side hallway and falling into line behind her, propelled by two women in black robes and pointed hats. _Witches. Witches and wizards and magic. This _is_ a nightmare._

Chester came barreling out of another side hallway, gasping for breath. "Mum, Mum, she said she'd give me pig's ears! Make her stop!"

A grandmotherly woman with a "no nonsense" demeanor, robed in green, stepped out of the hallway behind him. Marcie covered her son's mouth and gave the woman a sickly smile. The woman folded her arms; she looked singularly unimpressed.

There were others joining their parade now, other professors, some of the students, most of them so stunned they walked quietly. A few protested, until one of the identical men jabbed a stick in their direction and said something Latin-sounding. The resulting total silence was unnerving.

Marcie stiffened her back. _I refuse to give in to scare tactics. I will not let them frighten me._

Then they reached the main staircase of the school, and she forgot her resolve and simply gaped.

A man stood on nothing at all in the middle of the atrium, his eyes level with her own, with what looked like another man crouched at his feet. The standing man, though, had everyone's attention. Tall, black-haired and pale, with a hooked nose and dark eyes, he would have been a movie-maker's dream come true to star in a vampire film. He was looking around and smiling in a self-satisfied manner. It was the scariest thing Marcie had ever seen.

One of the red-haired men whispered a word Marcie didn't understand. She jumped as something roared like a lion directly behind her. Other roars answered from all around the rim of the stairwell, where white-faced, shaking people stood gaping with stern-looking robed figures at their backs.

"We are ready, then," the pale man said, with such utterly perfect diction that Marcie felt she could be skewered on his words. "Good." He reached down to stroke the thing beside him and whisper a few words to it.

"You are here," he began, staring at each of them in turn, "because all of you are guilty of one of the most heinous of crimes. You have harmed a child." Lutch flinched from the man's eyes. "Or by your deliberate inaction allowed one to come to harm." The female professor cowered back.

"We are not a vengeful people," he continued, his eyes boring into Dudley, who looked as if he wanted to sink through the floor. "Therefore, no one will be physically hurt tonight. Unless," and his glare struck Marcie full-force, "one of you decides to do something stupid, like attacking us. We will not hesitate to defend ourselves."

The figure at his feet growled.

"It is time. Let the games begin!"

The crouching thing sprang upright. It was a man, but a man obviously in anguish. He was shaking all over, his body was writhing and twisting –

And suddenly there was no man there at all, but a huge, monstrous wolf. It raised its snout to the ceiling and howled, a sound of fury and despair.

"Run if you will," the pale man said sneeringly into the silence that followed the howl. "Run if you will, but you cannot hide. We will find you. Justice will be served tonight."

All the lights went out for a moment. When they came back on, Lutch was unconscious, Dudley was hyperventilating, and Chester was huddled up on the floor sucking his thumb, something he hadn't done for years.

The strangers were nowhere to be seen.

-----

"What did you say to Remus?" Minerva asked Harry-Snape as the pranksters regrouped momentarily at home base.

" 'This is ridiculous.' "

"I'm aware of that. What did you say?"

"That _is_ what I said."

"Ah."

The werewolf rolled his eyes and snorted a laugh.

-----

(A/N: Hold on tight, everyone! We are officially under way!

Lady Cinnibar: Stuff happens. This is my last update on a shared computer, since I'll be back to school by Wednesday. And now you know. Moral of the story – never eat anything the Weasley twins give you. ::big grin::

gallandro-83: Sorry to disappoint. Hope this is better. Harry couldn't tell Marie because he didn't know – the London team had just gotten back when he left – and Ginny needed to get the girls to sleep right away, so telling Marie another exciting and troubling piece of news wouldn't have helped. She'll find out soon enough, never you worry. And no comment on the matter of Harry being an Animagus.

Nalini213: You guessed the snake-Snape trick! Major points to you! Also, for your excellent work with names, the "Name Game" prize is officially yours. What would you like your character named?

Kraeg001: Nope, sorry, coincidence. Thanks for the compliments, though!

emikae: I remember my "living by the computer" days. Mothers never like anything, do they?

Gyre: Hope you like this – mucho pranks still to come!

athenakitty: In order: probably only as a really bad dream – no comment, but you're the runner-up for the "Astute Fan" award for this question – all night, but sporadically – unlikely, but possible. Most people had never thought of Dudley having magical children, right?

Annikaya: You are so right... satisfied? ::grin::

Joshua: Sorry, dude, no Hogwarts in this story. Hogwarts in the sequel, and the sequel will go up very soon after Home ends. Keep reading, and think about athenakitty's second question!

Tanydwr, Manderlin, Luver19, Caprice-Ann HedicanKocur, RunningInCircles, harryp123: Thank you all!

Keep R&Ring! Love everyone!)


	21. The Night Begins

Chapter 21: The Night Begins

Percy was enjoying himself tremendously. His brothers had teased him for so long about his looks. Now they had to deal with it themselves.

Although he could have done without Ron's comment, made Ron-style at the top of his lungs, "THE ONLY THING KEEPING ME ALIVE IS THE FACT THAT THIS WEARS OFF!"

Really, Ron had nothing to yell about. Harry had it much worse.

It was also a little disconcerting to turn to the person next to you and discover that it was, for all intents and purposes, you. He didn't know how Fred and George managed it.

"I hear something," Bill said softly, holding up his hand for them to stop.

A group of boys appeared at the other end of the hallway that dead-ended in the T-junction where Percy and Bill were currently standing. Their eyes went very wide.

"Hello," Bill said neutrally, then turned back to Percy as if continuing a conversation.

"So, as I was saying," he said, gesturing with his wand as if it were a conductor's baton, "she told me," two swoops of the wand conjured a sturdy bar onto the wall above the door, "that if she sees me doing that again," another flick created an upwards arrow, "she'll leave me. Now how do you like that?"

"Quite a lot, actually," Percy said, noting the boys whispering among themselves at the other end of the hall. "Get ready," he added quietly as one of them pulled away from the pack to smile smarmily at the wizards.

Bill tensed. "Wait for it," Percy admonished. Bill rolled his eyes.

The boys charged down the hall.

"Jump!"

The Weasleys leapt into the air, grabbing the bar, and pulled themselves up and out of the way. The boys couldn't stop in time and ran headlong into the wall, knocking themselves down and, in at least one case, out.

Percy dropped from the bar a bit heavily, staggering a little to avoid the dazed boys sprawled everywhere. _Maybe I need to spend more time outdoors. The office does get rather stuffy this time of year._

Bill landed lightly as a cat, vanished the bar, and held out his hand. Percy slapped it first, then shook it, and the two Disapparated to seek prey elsewhere.

-----

Minerva opened the door of the pranksters' home base. The desks she had Transfigured galloped out, accompanied by Ginny's Charmed chalk. Changing into her Animagus form, she chose her moment, then leapt onto the top of one of the desks. As she had hoped, it went where she directed it with her weight, galloping faster as she leaned forward, turning where she wanted it to.

_I haven't had this much fun in years._

-----

Fred and George were in their element. Plenty of people to prank, plenty of supplies to prank with, and a whole night to prank in.

If only they didn't look like Percy.

Ah well, it would wear off in time. Besides, they didn't have to look at themselves.

_But we do have to look at each other._ Fred grimaced, looking at his twin's temporarily stuffy and prim face.

_It doesn't matter,_ he told himself sternly._ No matter what we look like, we're still masters of the noble art of prank._

"There they are!" shouted a voice from the bottom of the stairs. It was Harry's cousin Dudley.

"Never changes, does he," George commented.

"Nope, never does," Fred replied. "I wonder if that Irrationality Spell we cast on him is still in effect?"

With a bellow, Dudley began to run up the steep stairs at them.

"That would be a yes," George said.

_Steep, straight stairs. Besides being alliterative, what does that remind me of?_

Fred pulled out his wand. "Do you remember, brother mine, those books that were so popular when we were getting the joke shop started?"

"How could I forget?" George responded. "After what we pulled off at Christmas that year?"

"True enough. Do you happen to recall a recreation known as 'traying'?"

"Ah yes. This does look like an ideal place for the indoor form of that pastime."

They exchanged evil grins as always. On Percy's face, it looked decidedly peculiar.

Fred conjured a pair of large red plastic trays from the Goldenrod cafeteria. George applied a Slipping Spell to their undersides.

Dudley's face turned the color of oatmeal as he realized the Weasleys weren't waiting for him at the top. On the contrary, they were coming down as swiftly as they could manage. He turned and tried to get away, but it was too late.

Dudley skidded down the stairs on his back, feet first, pushed by the combined force of two gleeful twins riding trays.

-----

Minerva's desk screeched to a halt just in time for her to enjoy the twins' descent. Her only wish was that both of them, instead of just one, had landed on Dudley at the bottom.

The Weasleys vanished the trays and moved off in search of other quarry, waving politely at her. It still looked odd to see Percy Weasley's face on more than one person. But if she could get used to one set of Weasley twins, no doubt she could get used to another.

She shook her head. Of course she could get used to more than one set of Weasley twins. There were two currently attending her school. Only one set was identical, thankfully, and those in different houses. She didn't think she could have handled another Fred and George. Brian Weasley, Sirius Potter, and their friend James Black were quite enough.

Dudley groaned. Minerva leapt down from her desk and trotted over to him. She made sure she had his full attention, then began to cough.

A few moments later, she spit the token of her esteem delicately onto his chest.

_Well placed, Minerva! Directly inside the shirt! Ten points to Gryffindor, m'girl._

She returned to her desk and urged it onward.

-----

Hermione sat at her ease in one of the classrooms, carefully enchanting the books she had pulled off the shelves. Beside her, Penelope was bespelling the supplies she had gotten from a cupboard at the back of the room.

"How are you coming?" Ginny asked from the doorway.

"We're fine," Hermione said. "Thought you knew that."

"I did, but it's polite to ask." Ginny stuck her tongue out at her sister-in-law.

"Really, girls," Penelope said without looking up. "If you must fight, can't you do it quietly?"

Silence reigned in the room for a full minute. Then Ginny transformed into cat form, gave an audible sniff, and left.

Penelope sighed. "That is still a bit disconcerting, you know."

"You asked for it," Hermione pointed out.

"I know. It just proves that not even I can be intelligent all the time."

Hermione wisely declined to comment. "There's a group of girls about to come around the corner. We can ambush them as they pass."

Shrill voices rose in the hallway.

"How were we supposed to know she really had a magic family?"

"Yeah, everybody lies. You lied, Petrov, you said you had a magic family too."

"I did! I did have a magic family!"

"You did not."

"Well, I had a magic granddad. I never knew him, but I did have a magic granddad." The girl sounded positively sulky.

"Yeah right. So why doesn't he magic you out of here?"

"I don't know!" the girl shrieked, and Hermione winced. _She sounds so young. What could she have done to be sent here?_

_We're not hurting them,_ she reminded herself. _And if their behavior today is any indication, this might just be the lesson they need in how to treat others with respect._

Besides, she had to admit to herself, it was fun.

Penelope held up one hand and began lowering the fingers. _Three... two... one..._

Hermione swung the door open from behind.

The books and supplies flew into the hallway and encircled the screaming girls. The books each grew to tremendous size and gently but firmly picked up a girl between cover and pages. A pair of scissors quickly clipped all their outer clothing off them. Reams of paper reclothed them with glue to hold it together, and for a final touch, Penelope's enchanted pens decorated their new outfits.

Hermione watched carefully through the hinges of the door. One girl in the group was noticeably younger than the rest, and oddly, after the first shock, she didn't scream. Instead, she watched in amazement and what looked like... hope?

_She might be the one they called Petrov. She looks like she's seen magic before. Or at least heard about it. _

_Odd. She looks vaguely familiar..._

The books released the girls, most of the rest of whom hadn't stopped bawling the whole way through the experience. With a rustle of pages, they flew neatly back through the open door, followed by scissors, pens, glue, and what was left of the paper.

The girls snatched up their discarded clothing and ran.

All except the littlest one.

She eyed the open door for a long moment, her back against the opposite wall of the hallway, as if weighing the possibilities. Then she visibly gathered her courage and ran at full speed towards the door.

Hermione caught her as she entered the room, spinning her around to slow her and landing her deftly in one of the desks. Penelope shut the door and switched on the lights.

The girl was a bit unprepossessing, up close. She had flat brown hair and a mousy face. Of course, it didn't help that she currently looked so scared she couldn't breathe.

"Are you witches?" she blurted out.

"Yes," Penelope said. "We're not evil, but we are witches."

"Can I be one too?"

Hermione blinked. _Well, that's direct._ "I don't know," she said. "You have to be born with magic to be a witch or a wizard. How old are you?"

"Ten. I'll be eleven next April."

_I was right. She is young. Too young to be in a place like this._

"Why are you here?" Penelope asked.

The girl blushed. "I did stupid stuff at home. I ran into construction sites and yelled at my teachers when they yelled at me. The counselor said I had too much spunk for my size. My dad thought maybe a year here would help me control myself."

_Fool of a man._ "What about your mother?"

"She doesn't care about me. They're divorced."

"I see."

"My name's Elizabeth," the girl volunteered. "What's yours? Please?"

"I'm Hermione. Would you like to hold my wand?"

Penelope looked slightly shocked, but Hermione gave her a _I-can-handle-this_ look and she held her peace.

Elizabeth accepted the wand reverently. "Is it really a real magic wand?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said, remembering her own first shock at discovering the realities of a magical world. "Very real indeed."

Elizabeth waved the wand gently, up and down, then suddenly flicked it hard towards the wall. A jet of red sparks flew from it and left scorch marks.

"Oops," Elizabeth said shamefacedly, and quickly gave the wand back to Hermione, looking at her sidewise as if she expected to be scolded.

"She did tell you it was real," Penelope said, hiding her surprise admirably, Hermione thought. "No harm has been done." She waved her own wand at the wall, repairing the damage.

"Thank you," Elizabeth said, still staring at the desk as if she expected a beating any moment. Which she might, Hermione remembered.

"Elizabeth," she said quietly, and the girl looked up at her. "Why don't you come along with me. I'll take you someplace where you can sleep tonight. You were so brave, I think you deserve a peaceful night, away from all this craziness. And then tomorrow, I wouldn't be surprised if your father comes and gets you to take you home."

The girl's face lit up. "Really?"

"It's not certain yet, but I'll see what I can do. And I do mean it. Come on."

They walked through the school to the dormitory where Helen and Marie were sleeping, avoiding the active prank zones as much as possible. Penelope repaired Elizabeth's nightdress, and the girl climbed gratefully into a bed and murmured "good night" to them.

"Why?" Penelope asked once they were far enough down the hall that they wouldn't be overheard.

"Why what?"

"Why did you tell her that?"

"Because I intend to make it come true. She's magical, you saw it yourself. What kind of place would this be to get her ready for Hogwarts?"

Penelope nodded thoughtfully. "This gives me an idea," she said. "The Headmaster of this school won't remember this night, except as a dream. So we need to find a way to make the lesson permanent without harming him or his property. I believe it might be prudent to remove as many pupils from this so-called school as we can."

"Financially squeeze him," Hermione breathed, realizing her sister-in-law's scheme. "Brilliant."

"Thank you."

-----

Arthur Weasley was happily tinkering with a telephone, one that had survived his power surge intact but inoperative. "It'll bite people's ears occasionally for the next few weeks," he said gleefully. "I never thought all those curses I had to learn to remove would come in so handy."

"You're as bad as the boys, Arthur," Molly said fondly, watching the end of the hallway. She hoped, oh, how she hoped, that Helen's birth mother would wander down this way. Any member of Helen's birth family would have done – she had ideas for them all – but she had such a wondrous treat in store for the woman.

_Well, well. Speak of the devil._

Marcie Dursley stuck her head timidly around a corner, peering around for signs of life.

Molly activated her warning signal to give the others notice to get set up. Then she froze the other woman with the Impediment Curse, knocked her down, and sat on her. _Dreadfully unladylike, but so satisfying._

Marcie wheezed as the curse wore off. Molly stared coldly down at her. "You neglected one of my grandchildren," she said. "Neglect that would have bordered on abuse, were it not for her true family. I do not take kindly to that."

"And I do not take kindly to being kidnapped and abused for disciplining my own child in my own manner!" the woman spat back at her.

_Feisty, isn't she. This should be more fun than I thought._

"Shall we have this out like civilized women, then?" Molly didn't wait for an answer. Instead she wrapped the end of the string she carried around Marcie's wrist and whispered the password.

The string-Portkey pulled them into the school's gymnasium.

"What are we doing here?" Marcie demanded.

The lights came on. Everyone awake in the school was sitting in the bleachers. Their expressions ranged from anticipatory to horror-struck.

"Ladies and gentlemen," said Harry-Snape in that peculiar, precise diction that had been unique to the Potions Professor. "This is it. The moment you've all been waiting for. Molly Prewett Weasley versus Marcie Kedder Dursley in..."

He savored the moment. "The Great Shout-Off."

Marcie looked confused. Molly folded her arms in satisfaction.

"The fight of the century, or at least the fight of the night. Take your corners, ladies, and come out shouting. May the best mother win."

-----

(A/N: Just wanted to put something out there for you, readers. Home At Last, and whatever I decide to call the sequel (Official notice: there will be one), are in the same universe as Resonance. Therefore, if you want more information on something interesting in Home, you could try reading Resonance. There might be background on it there.

RunningInCircles: Thanks!

Caprice-Ann HedicanKocur: Thank you, both for the compliments and for putting up with me messing up your name!

Brigade701: Thanks for reviewing, and for the tip.

Kraeg001: But I don't want you to say the least... I want you to say much more than the least... snicker.

Nalini213: Wish I had a picture of it myself; unfortunately, Harry and Ron destroyed the negatives. (Know any good artists, anyone?) Oh yes, and Vanna Weasley: oldest daughter of George and Alicia, Ravenclaw, fourth year to Helen's first. You like?

Gyre: Dust yourself off and keep reading – thanks!

cleo2rox: I update this fic Mondays and Fridays. Glad you like it so much. Check my Resonance update if you haven't already.

Lady Cinnibar: Especially his hair, what? Good that you have a computer again – pooh on losing all data. Almost happened to me once when I knocked my laptop off a table. (I was trying to keep my little sister from sticking her finger in an outlet and I tripped over the power cord.)

athenakitty: Fair question, but they're not using Polyjuice Potion, so they don't need a part of the person. As Ginny mentioned in passing, F&G have invented Metamorphmagus Mints, which work similarly to Polyjuice, but can be enchanted by the user or another wizard to produce the desired effect (from changed hair color to entire body change, such as Harry-Snape). Gabriel's presence wasn't planned, but Fleur is a talented improviser, so I guess he's part of it now. Most to all of the teachers are involved in this, and the students who scared/hurt Helen or Marie, and the truly nasty kids. The rest of the school has been spelled to sleep through it. And Helen will be adopted soon, I promise. We have to let the pranksters have their fun first, though.

Little Lioness: Thanks, and welcome to the list!

Tanydwr: I appreciate compliments from a writer of your obvious prowess very greatly. Thank you much.

vire: Don't worry, Marie will get the education she needs. And the set-up I envision is more like Marie being a big sister who just happens to take care of the kids a lot instead of it being her serious, full-time job. After all, Ginny and Harry will want to spend time with them too, and don't forget Mrs. Figg.

Joshua: Glad you liked the scene. I had fun writing it. Plays with your mind a little imagining it, doesn't it? Snape telling McGonagall that Harry misbehaved... pretty normal... but no... Snape _is_ Harry... aagh... ::wicked laugh::

harryp123: As always, thanks.

Dahlias: Wow! Many, many thanks!

AKA Hummer: Thanks for long review! Didn't mean to confuse... am just HP junkie with too good a memory, and I forget that other people don't have as good. No, I didn't intend it to rhyme. Where does it? And I kind of like Snape... I think he's a slimy git in many ways, but I kind of like him.

My reviewers rock! Give yourselves a big hand!)


	22. The Great Shout Off

Chapter 22: The Great Shout-Off

Marcie reddened with indignation. "You consider this _entertainment_?! You're all freaks, freaks and perverts, if you find it funny to watch other people suffer! I refuse to participate in this charade. I'm leaving."

She marched toward the stairs leading out of the gym. As she drew level with the edge of the bleachers, a few people in the audience began to snicker. She kept walking. The laughter got louder.

It was then that she figured out that she was walking, but she wasn't going anywhere. The floor was simply moving her backwards as much as she tried to walk forwards.

"In a surprise move, one of the competitors attempts to leave the arena. Unfortunately, that's not permitted. So sorry, madame," the pale, sneering man said, making no attempt to conceal the laughter in his own voice. "I'm afraid you'll have to stay and fight it out."

Marcie pressed her lips together, feeling her face begin to heat. _They want me angry_, she thought desperately. _I won't give in. I can't. _

She did.

"HOW DARE YOU?" she shrieked. "How dare you bring me here to make fun of me? How dare you steal my daughter's affection away from me, her natural mother? How long have you been watching us? How long have you been watching _her_? How long have you _wanted_ her?"

She snapped her fingers, the idea coming to her in a flash. "That's it, of course, that's the answer. That's why she is – what she is. _You did something to her!_ You did something when my daughter was a baby, something to turn her into a freak like you, so you could steal her from us! What's wrong, don't you have enough of your own? And you call yourself a mother! How could you?"

The other woman – the announcer had said her name, was it Molly? – scoffed. "Really, now, do use some common sense. Assuming you have any. I've seen brighter people than you who've had heavy objects dropped on their heads. What's your excuse – did your pig of a husband fall on top of you at some point?"

The freak section of the audience hooted.

"If you had ever showed Helen the affection she deserves, or any affection at all, we would never have had to interfere. Children seldom do accidental magic if they are loved and cared for." Marcie took a breath to respond, but Molly wasn't finished. "And if you had kept an open mind about her, instead of simply believing what your husband told you – honestly, this isn't the 18th century – you would have seen what a beautiful child she was, and that her magic was a gift, an inborn gift, not a curse. I'll also have you know that we certainly do not lack children of our own. I am proud to be the grandmother of twenty-seven wonderful children."

"I hope you're not counting Helen in that number," Marcie sneered. "She's no granddaughter of yours. If you were my mother, I'd probably kill myself." The normal part of the audience, many of whom showed distinct signs of having been pranked already, sniggered.

"If you were my daughter, I would have spared you the trouble long ago," Molly retorted. The freak audience laughed again. "You closed-minded, foolish woman. You wanted to know how long we've been watching you, well, I'll tell you then. We've always watched the Dursley family. Because once they were in danger, in danger for their lives, and we wanted to prevent anything bad from happening to them."

"Liar!" Dudley shouted from the bleachers. "It was all tricks, all tricks to get back at us for what we did to Potter, just like what you're doing now."

"Don't speak unless you're spoken to," Molly snapped in Dudley's direction, then restored her attention to Marcie. "During that period of danger, Dudley met you, and it became apparent where things were going. My son-in-law asked that we keep watching you, not because we wanted to spy, but because he was afraid that something might happen, something exactly like what did happen. A child left out, neglected, for no better reason than that she looked like a great-aunt who was different. We could not, would not, allow that to continue."

"Children need discipline," Marcie returned. "And _she_ needed firmer discipline than a normal child."

"Why? Because she was not _normal_?" Molly shook her head in disbelief. "How can you be so blind? She needed _love_, love and reassurance, not to be pushed away! If you had kept up what you did, with Helen's temper, it's quite possible she could have torn your house down and killed you all by accident!"

"I know that's a lie!" Apparently, Dudley couldn't contain himself. "My parents did worse to Potter, and he never killed anyone."

"He was tempted," said the vampire man, rising from his seat to shoot Dudley a look of loathing. "You have no idea how he was tempted. And you and your parents were lucky, in that Harry Potter was a forbearing and mostly even-tempered child. Helen, although _you_ do not know her well enough to see this, has something of a short fuse. Do not contradict the lady again, or I will make you regret it."

Molly nodded thanks toward him. He returned the nod and sat down, still looking angrier than Marcie had thought was possible. A red-haired woman next to him slipped her arm through his comfortingly.

"You make me sick," Marcie spat. "So sure you know what's right and what's wrong. So self-righteous and full of yourselves. How would you like it if I came into your home, took one of your children away from you because I didn't think you were doing it right?"

"If I had _ever_ treated one of my children as you treated Helen, you would have every right to do so!" Molly said indignantly. "You were _this_ close to criminal neglect – one speck more and you would have crossed the line. And then, suddenly, she improved. She stopped misbehaving, as you called it."

"As I called it?" Marcie sputtered. "She destroyed every breakable thing in the house! _Twice!_"

"And both times because you made her angry by denying her some trifle it would have been perfectly fine to let her have!"

"You've never dealt with a child like her," Marcie said. "You don't know what it's like."

All the freaks in the audience began to laugh. Even Molly looked vaguely amused. "You are quite correct. I have never dealt with _a_ child like her."

_Finally. A point for me. _Marcie smirked.

"_I_ raised _seven_ magical children."

Marcie gaped. "_Seven?!_"

"Let us return to the subject at hand," Molly said firmly. "Helen's behavior improved – no thanks to you. You never questioned. You simply began to allow her freedom again. Freedom to come and go. And when she began spending large amounts of time at a neighbor's house, you never investigated. SHE COULD HAVE BEEN HURT THERE!" Molly shouted suddenly, causing everyone to jump. "SHE COULD HAVE BEEN EXPLOITED, OR GETTING INTO UNTHINKABLE THINGS! WHY DID YOU NEVER CARE ENOUGH TO CHECK ON HER?"

"But – she wasn't," Marcie protested feebly. "Dudley said he'd known Mrs. Figg for years, she used to babysit his cousin..." Something connected inside Marcie's head. "SHE'S ONE OF YOU, ISN'T SHE! SHE'S ANOTHER FREAK LIKE YOU! EVERY SECOND MY DAUGHTER SPENT WITH HER, SHE WAS BEING CORRUPTED!"

"Arabella Figg is not a witch," Molly said with satisfaction. "But she is a friend of our families. And yes, much of the time that Helen supposedly spent at her house was actually spent at my own home, or at the home of one of my sons or my daughter. And if you had ever _deigned_ to go and visit her and ask, she would have told you that. But no. She took 'the blasted girl' off your hands. So you let Helen go freely to a place you knew next to nothing about."

"I always wondered where she picked up her filthy ways," Marcie said bitterly.

"Filthy ways like _reading_?" Molly pounced on the phrase. "Or didn't you ever notice she could read? Filthy ways like _music_ and _mathematics_? Did you ever know she could sing, or that she needed help learning to add? Of course not, because you never asked or cared about her!"

"I was referring to her filthy way of hurting people," Marcie said contemptuously. "Which of your precious _grandchildren_ taught her how to fight with her fists? She's bloodied her brother's nose more than once."

"Her brother Sirius, I believe that was – "

"SHE HAS NO BROTHER WITH THAT FREAKISH NAME!" Marcie screamed. "HER BROTHER'S NAME IS CHESTER. STOP REFERRING TO HER AS IF SHE WERE YOURS!"

"She _is_ ours," Molly said crisply. "By our choice and by hers, Helen belongs to us. She has belonged to us for the past six years."

"_Six years!_"

"Yes, six years. She was five when she asked to be adopted, so she could have a real family. We gave her what she asked for, which you apparently never did. She is ours, and we will not give her up. And if I were you, I wouldn't call 'Sirius' a freakish name. At least not if you want to leave this room unharmed."

The werewolf on the second tier growled in apparent assent.

"You don't scare me," Marcie growled back at it, emboldened by the energy of combined anger and panic. "You," she snapped at the pale man, "you said we wouldn't get hurt. Going back on your word so soon?"

"I said that you wouldn't get hurt if you were rational and polite," the man replied in a tone colder than ice. "Criticizing someone that most of the people here cared about is hardly rational or polite. Down, Remus." The werewolf snarled but lay down.

"You dare to talk about being _rational_?" Marcie was aghast. "You dare to talk about _politeness_? How do you justify stealing someone else's child? Is that rational? Is that polite? Is that fair?"

Molly sighed. "My daughter and son-in-law did nothing underhanded to gain Helen's affection. They called themselves her aunt and uncle, visited her only once every few days – for heaven's sake, _they left her in your house_, when she and they both wanted desperately for her to leave it! They wanted to give you every chance they could to keep her! And if you recall, Harry tried to speak with you on this subject, politely and like a rational adult. You shouted at him, and your husband tried to attack him physically."

"He insulted us," Marcie hissed. "He invaded our home. And now you have dragged us here for more insults, more humiliations. How can you live with yourselves? Tell me that."

Molly snorted. "We have no qualms – any of us – about what we do here tonight. You deserve much worse."

"WHAT COULD BE WORSE THAN THIS?" Marcie shouted. "STRANDED IN THIS PLACE, LOCKED IN LIKE ANIMALS BY THIS – THIS – ABNORMALITY OF YOURS, TEASED AND TORMENTED FOR YOUR ENTERTAINMENT! AND NOW YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO SAY WE DESERVE WORSE! TELL ME – WHAT COULD BE WORSE THAN THIS?!"

"I _will _tell you," Molly said in a tone that was so full of righteous anger that Marcie took an involuntary step back. "To live your life unwanted and unnoticed. To watch someone else get everything you want while you get nothing. To be ignored, slighted, neglected at every turn. And if you try to speak up and ask for something better, you're slapped down and told you deserve nothing. You're punished for things you can't help or change. And this is the only life you know."

The gymnasium was as silent as if everyone had been turned into stone. Marcie's one step backward had turned into a series, since Molly was stalking slowly forward.

"That is the life my seventh son had before we met him. That is the life you would have let Helen have. And that is the life I wish I could give you. As long as you live, never to hear a kind word, never to have anyone speak your name in love. _That_ is what you deserve."

They were face-to-face. Marcie could feel the other woman's breath on her face, feel the heat of her anger, feel those eyes boring into her soul. For the first time in her life, she knew what true fear was.

The freak audience broke into applause. The six identical men were chanting "Mum, Mum, Mum, Mum," as the women clapped in time. The vampire man stuck two fingers in his mouth and whistled ear-piercingly, and the werewolf howled.

Marcie whimpered and wished it would all go away.

And as Molly grabbed her wrist again, it did, with a horrid jerk that felt as if it started somewhere inside her body. She was back in the hallway where this had all started, leaning against the wall weakly.

"One last thing," Molly said darkly. She pulled out her little stick and said something. Marcie squealed as she felt something _sprout_ on her forehead.

"They'll fall out within a few days," said Molly. "But the scars will be permanent. Consider them a remembrance gift." She spun on her heel and walked down the hall, around the corner, and out of sight.

Marcie ran her hand across her forehead fearfully. There were two of them, whatever they were, and they were sharp and pointed.

She pulled out her pocket mirror and shrieked. There, on her forehead just below her hairline, were a pair of devil's horns.

-----

Around the corner, Molly smiled to herself. _She got off easy. I should have given her a tail to match. But I won't torment her any more just yet._

She set off in search of Dudley and Chester Dursley. There was plenty left of the night.

-----

(A/N: So, was it what you were hoping for?

Kraeg001: 15-odd years of friendship with Harry and company has loosened Minerva up a bit, I think. Yes, I thought you'd enjoy traying twins. James Black is exactly who Minerva says he is. More about him in the sequel. Remember, Elizabeth has a father; he just didn't know how to deal with her before. He'll get some advice. And you DO have front-row seats. So to speak. ::cackle:: Great review! Thank you also for providing Molly's first crack at Marcie – the one about Dudley falling on her head!

athenakitty: Yes, yes, yes, maybe, and yes.

Nalini213: Glad you think my traying twins were funny. I originally intended for them to be sitting on the trays, but standing up is more fun...

Queen of the Jungle: Thank you for noticing! I love that scene myself! I was a little miffed that no one else mentioned it.

Annikaya: I vote for Molly too! But there will be lots more pranks, I promise! The night is far from over!

AKA Hummer: More assonance than rhyming, I think, but thanks for noticing.

Gyre: You have a point. I think they consider themselves paid from the fun they're having.

emikae: Thanks for asking. See bottom.

Lady Cinnibar: You don't HAVE to... but thank you for doing so anyway! Ren Fairs rock! See bottom for your question.

Tanydwr: What a great review! You're going to spoil me! Thank you for noticing my Percy and Penelope bits. I figure Percy had to let go of some of his pride to reconcile with his family, and he found out everyone liked him better that way, so he stuck with it. This story ends when Helen achieves the status of the title, but the sequel will pick up right where this leaves off. As for the pranks... I just think like the twins. Dangerous to do for long, but useful for writing.

Joshua: Hey, I'm just emulating the Goddess of Canon. By her own admission, she has around 200 characters, and more to come. Thanks for the compliments.

Nimohtar, Magic Caster, Ravens-Jade, harryp123, LadyRaven13, Egyptian Flame, prisoner nomber 961: Thank you very much!

To those who asked about Elizabeth Petrov: Notice that she's around the age of Harry's children. That places her grandfather in the age bracket of Harry's parents. Her last name is significant, as are her looks. Any guesses now?

Early update for all my lovely reviewers! Keep reviewing please, there's no such thing as too long or too often!)


	23. The Night Continues

Chapter 23: The Night Continues

Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet had been friends since their first train ride to Hogwarts. They had done almost everything together, from joining the Quidditch team to joining the DA, and their tastes were very much the same. So it seemed only right that when they fell in love, they fell in love together.

With a pair of identical twins.

They hadn't had a double wedding due to circumstances that had gotten out of their control, which Alicia thought was just as well. She probably would have wondered all her life if she had married the right one.

_I wouldn't put it past them to prank their own wedding if they got the chance. _

_But we didn't give them one._

The alter-Marauders had met their matches in more ways than one when the rings had been exchanged. With a little help from Molly, Angelina kept Fred, and Alicia kept George, firmly in line.

_After all, to marry a prankster, you really need to be a prankster yourself..._

Angelina tapped Alicia's wrist, breaking her out of her reverie. "What?" she whispered.

Angelina pointed ahead.

_Ah. Victims at twelve o'clock. _

The two Disillusioned and waited.

A group of four girls edged into view. Well, a large piece of cardboard with the ends of nightgowns and eight bare feet poking out from under it edged into view. Several small holes had been poked in it, probably for peeking purposes.

_Smart kids. Got themselves a shield._

"Stick, Slip, and Push?" Angelina's voice whispered in her ear.

"Oh yes." _Got themselves a ride, too. Only they don't know it yet._

The game had been a favorite at Hogwarts until banned by Filch in Alicia's second year. All that was necessary was a piece of something to sit on – cloth, parchment, even a book would do – a wand, and knowledge of a few charms.

"I'll start with Slip, get them to drop it," Alicia said.

"And then we'll levitate them on and Stick them. Works for me. Ready... go!"

Alicia hit the cardboard with a Slipping Spell, making one of its broad surfaces practically frictionless. The girls lost their hold on the edges and dropped it, squealing.

Angelina shouted "_Wingardium Leviosa!_" and nabbed two of the girls at once. Alicia got the third one, who was trying to run. The fourth was backed into the wall, apparently hoping a door would open if she just kept trying.

They dropped the screeching children onto the cardboard and hit them with Time-Release Sticking Charms, which would last either for an hour or until removed, whichever was first. Alicia herded the fourth girl on and Stuck her as well.

After a Safety Charm to ensure they didn't fall down any stairs or run into anything harmful, Alicia revealed herself. Angelina did likewise. The girls were clutching each other, whimpering.

"How goes it?" asked Ginny from behind them.

"Excellently," Angelina said. "We're just about to give them a send-off. Care to do the honors?"

"I think I can do that." Ginny walked over to the cardboard. "You'll like this," she told the girls, who were leaning away from her as far as they could. "It's just like a ride at the amusement park. Now, do you want to go straight to start, or do you want to spin?"

"Spin?" squeaked out one girl.

"Are you sure?" Ginny drawled, looking them over. "I don't think you're strong enough to last through all the spinning."

The girls sat up straight. "Are too," one of them said. "Do your worst."

Ginny smiled wickedly. "If you insist."

She leaned down and spun the cardboard hard, then gave it a push. It caromed down the hall, with the girls still clinging to each other and squealing. The squeals actually sounded more excited than frightened at the moment.

"They'll get sick doing that, you know," Alicia said.

"They asked for it." Ginny dusted off her hands. "How long will that last, an hour?"

"Just about." Angelina looked faintly sick herself. "An hour spinning around and bouncing off everything – can you imagine?"

"They'll survive," Alicia said. "They're strong."

"Yes, but are their stomachs?"

"We'll just have to wait and see, won't we?"

-----

Fleur Delacour Weasley walked slowly down a hallway, carefully cradling her sleeping son, veela senses alert.

_Yes. A number of young males came this way, not so long ago. And how interesting – an older male with them, but still young. A professor, most likely. _

_What a perfect opportunity._

Although few people knew it, veela had more than one type of allure. There was the young and innocent look, good for luring either similarly young and innocent males or the hardened type who wanted something new. There was the knowledgeable seductress, who appealed to similarly experienced men or fresh blood looking to get initiated. There was the exotic beauty, attractive to those who were interested in the unusual and different.

And there was one other. One rarely used but still quite powerful.

Fleur slipped into her "mother of all" guise.

"Oh, where are ze boys?" she lamented aloud. "I 'ad such plans... such ideas... but no, they were not interested... ah, so sad. No stories for zem."

"Stories?" came a distinct whisper from a nearby classroom.

"Shut up!"

_As I thought..._ "I could 'ave told zem such things, such wonderful tales of dragons and secret treasures, and of tournaments and duels... but I will not tell such things if no one will listen."

"I'm here!" A boy burst out of the room. "I wanna hear!"

"Well, 'ello," Fleur said, smiling at him. "What is your name?"

"Mike. Can you really tell a story about dragons?"

"Oh, yes. Would you like zat?"

The boy nodded fervently.

"Well, Mike, I will tell you about three boys and a girl, not so much older than you, who must fight against dragons to gain golden eggs..."

By the time the story was over, the rest of the boys had apparently become convinced that it was safe to come out and were sitting entranced in the hallway. Even the young man who was a professor was standing in the door of the classroom, fascinated.

_Time, I think, for my segue._

"But then, of course, the young people 'ad never faced a veela. Do you know what a veela is?"

The boys shook their heads.

"A veela looks like a woman. She may even carry a baby with 'er, to make people think she is a woman."

The boys were beginning to shift in their places, looking uneasily at Gabriel in the crook of Fleur's arm.

"But she is a terrible creature, always 'ungry, and ze one thing she loves to eat most is little boys."

One of the boys gulped loudly.

"She will begin by telling a story, or giving them sweets, to make them think she is their friend. Then, when they are sitting very close to 'er..."

Fleur leaned forward. Two of the boys started to scoot themselves slowly backwards.

"She takes what she wants. Like zis."

She caught the nearest boy by his shirt. He stared at her, petrified, as the other boys scrambled down the hall, screaming. The young professor retreated quickly into the classroom, looking horrified.

"But I am not 'ungry tonight," Fleur purred at the boy, "so go your way, little one. Before I change my mind."

She released him, and he dashed after his friends.

Fleur conjured up Gabriel's sleeper seat from home and slid him in. _One more task._

She turned on her seductress mode full force and slipped into the classroom.

_That man deserves a little punishment for not even trying to help those poor boys._

_And I haven't driven a man wild in ages._

-----

Shannon Docson was beginning to regret ever taking the job at Goldenrod.

She had always been able to rationalize her methods before. The children were unruly. They needed to be reminded of who was in power. It took a tough image. It took harsh words. And sometimes, with the hardened ones, it took physical force. No one ever needed to know.

But then these strange people showed up. And if, as she had always believed, there was no such thing as magic, they had an awfully good substitute. Whatever it was, magic or trickery, it gave them power. Power which they were using in exactly the same way that she and her fellow professors normally used theirs – to punish wrongdoing severely.

And she didn't like it one little bit when she was on the receiving end.

_Is this what the children's lives are like?_ she wondered. _Constant fear, never being sure when someone's going to hit you with a punishment, maybe for something you didn't even do?_

"BLUDGER!" a man shouted from around the corner.

_What?_

Something large and black and round shot down the hall at her.

_Oh._

She dropped to the floor, and it soared over her head –

– and did a perfect 180-degree turn in midair and came back at her. She rolled out of the way, and it hit the floor so hard it smashed a hole in the floorboards.

_Damn, this thing means business!_

It zoomed up again and started coming down – she rolled away –

– but instead of a _crunch_ as the thing hit the floor, she heard a small explosion, and pieces of what she guessed was leather rained down around her.

She looked up to see one of the red-haired men who all looked alike (_prissy_ was the only possible descriptor she could think of), lowering a little stick with a half-sour, half-amused expression on his face. "Sorry about that," he said.

Another of the men rushed around the corner carrying a red ball and a pair of –

_Brooms?_

"Honest, Charlie, it was an accident! I was trying to make a Quaffle, I swear! I just said the wrong thing."

_Please don't tell me they're going to fly on those._

The first man shook his head. "Ronniekins, how you keep staying alive, with your job, I will never know. When was the last time you 'just said the wrong thing' to a Dark wizard?"

"Last week," the other man said promptly. "But I duck fast."

"Yes, well, luckily, so does she," the first man said, waving at Shannon.

"Oh." The second man looked abashed. "Sorry, ma'am. Didn't mean for that to happen. So, you ready?"

"Whenever you are, little bro," the first man said, accepting the broom the other handed him. They mounted them and kicked off.

_Yes, I think I _have_ just gone insane._

"Oy, Fred! George!" shouted one of them as they rounded the corner. "Care for a pick-up game?"

_I like watching games,_ said a treacherous little voice in Shannon's head.

She tried to overrule it, but it persisted. _They were telling the truth. They don't want anyone to get hurt. And how would it make trouble, just to go and watch?_

_But they're the enemy,_ she protested. _They're different. _

_Just because they're different, doesn't make them the enemy. Why not go have a look?_

Her feet decided for her, carrying her in the direction of the shouting while her mind was still dithering.

-----

Once again, Molly mused, the gymnasium was becoming a gathering place. But this was for a different reason.

The pick-up game had picked up rather more people than Ron and Charlie had originally intended. Fred and George had indeed been interested. So had Angelina and Alicia, and Bill and Ginny, and of course Harry. Minerva, too, had conjured herself a broom, and was actually captaining one of the teams.

In keeping with the spirit of the night, this was "wands allowed" Quidditch, the more interesting the hex, the better. And it was amazing how often the hexes missed the other players and scored among the Muggles packing one bleacher. There were five people with huge buckteeth, three with twitching ears, and one with wobbly legs, and those were just the ones Molly could see.

_But still they don't leave. I wonder why._

_Maybe they're hoping that the more they get punished, the faster the night will be over._

_Or maybe they're stupid._

Or maybe it was just amazement at people playing a game on flying broomsticks with a big black ball trying to knock them out of the air. Muggles were fascinated by the oddest things.

A ruckus at the gymnasium entrance caught her eye.

_Ah, everyone's favorite family is finally here. Who shall I curse this time?_

"But I wanna go in! I wanna!" Chester's whining voice rose above the noise the crowd was making, and Molly was inspired. She had used a certain useful spell to get Fred and George to stop similar whining long ago. _As a matter of fact, I'm not entirely sure this isn't where their interest in pranks comes from..._

She waved Arthur over to tell him what she was planning so he could get into position with his camera. _The boy's face when he figures this out should be priceless..._

Then she Apparated directly in front of the Dursleys.

"_Civililingua_," she said carefully, pointing her wand at Chester before his parents had a chance to react.

"Mother," Chester said in an aristocratic tone. "I wish to enter this room. Please permit me entrance." His face, as she had expected, was a study in perplexity. She heard Arthur's camera go off. "What I mean to say is, I desire to observe the entertainment..." Then the boy visibly realized what must have happened to him. "The woman directly before me has cursed my speech, Father! I cannot cease talking in the manner of the people you style as overschooled useless fops!"

"So when does _this_ wear off?" Dudley said through clenched teeth.

"When he learns to speak politely on his own," Molly said. "You should thank me, if that's the way he always acts at home."

Marcie looked about ready to explode.

"Excuse me, please," Molly said, and returned to her seat just in time to see Severus Snape dodge Minerva McGonagall and slip the Quaffle past Percy Weasley to score.

-----

The Quidditch game wrapped up around midnight. The Muggles were encouraged to leave the gym by Fred and George's post-game fireworks show, featuring several rather realistic dragons, which breathed very real fire. The twins contrived to be looking somewhere else entirely at the moment when one of the dragons swooped down and lightly toasted the hair of a fleeing Dudley.

"Time for Phase Two?" Ron-Percy asked Harry-Snape as they allowed their conjured brooms to vanish.

"Yes, I think so. Remus, Phase Two. Want to take first shift?" Harry-Snape called up to the werewolf, who nodded. "There you have it, we'll go first. See you in about half an hour."

The werewolf bounded down the stairs of the bleachers, grinning. "Enjoying yourself, I see," Harry-Snape said, feeling his own smile stretch this face unfamiliarly. "Come on, we have a Headmaster to find. But no biting."

He hadn't known werewolves could pout.

-----

(A/N: Does this chapter work OK? I was a little unsure about it...

Angus Hardie: Hey, that's great – it means I'm not totally dehumanizing them. Mostly, sure, but not totally. They do deserve a little pity. Very little.

emikae: Sorry about puzzlement, thanks for compliments, and I hope you feel better soon!

Kraeg001: Thanks, for compliments and offer both! I may take you up on that...

Annikaya: Over the years, Molly has learned finesse as well as force. She uses them both well. (Doesn't she just. ::tee::)

Lady Cinnibar: Surprisingly fun to read? Were you expecting it not to be?

Nalini213: Thanks for the idea! If I use it I'll credit you!

Stahchild: Nope, sorry, Sirius Black is not alive. Harry's son Sirius is alive, well, and causing mayhem. Thank you for all your compliments. If you notice, most of the numerous Weasley children running around have familiar names – I assume people who survived a war would want to honor those who died. There will be more reference to the war in the sequel, but I won't be spilling everything... I am planning on writing a 7th year fic, after all...

Jypsey: I'm confused. How is my language "supplying a remedy" or "intended to correct or improve deficient skills"? Or did you mean "mediocre" or something like that, instead of "remedial"? Sorry to disappoint you.

Joshua: Lateral thinking, anyone? Sorry, don't mean to confuse, but no public answer just yet. Keep thinking, and thanks.

Tanydwr: Knowing myself, I suggest you run away screaming. Thanks for noticing the linking – my first thoughts about this fic, as the first chapter title suggests, were about parallels. Dudley seems like just the kind of person to perpetuate the cycle. And then one night Helen walked into my head, and it all went from there...

LadyRaven13, harryp123, kateydidnt, Caprice-Ann HedicanKocur: Thank you all so much!

About Elizabeth Petrov – if you guess right, I'll let you know. If not, keep thinking. It will likely be a plot point in a few chapters, so I'm not revealing all yet...

Thanks for reading!)


	24. The Night Ends

Chapter 24: The Night Ends

Charlie sneezed hard twice. "Dammit," he said in a strangely pitched voice, as it modulated from Percy's precise tones to his own more relaxed sound, and sneezed again. "I forgot what these things do when they wear off."

Ron and Bill were also seized with fits of sneezing, Fred and George succumbing a moment later. Their wives laughed and Arthur snapped a shot or two of them all sneezing in a row as their faces returned to more-or-less normal.

"Come on, gentlemen, we've got a job to do," Bill said, heading for the gymnasium entrance. "Bedtime for kiddies."

"Oh, Fred, love, take special care with those girls of mine," Angelina called. "The charms should have worn off by now, but they're going to be dizzy for a while."

"Will do," Fred called back.

"And we need to go move Helen and Marie and Elizabeth," Ginny said. "The others need to wake up in their own dorm if we're going to convince them it was all a dream, and I don't want them anywhere near our girls."

"Good point. Where should we bunk them?" Alicia asked.

"They can come in with us," Ginny said. "Three more beds shouldn't be a problem."

"I'll go and get them ready," said Minerva, and Disapparated.

"Thanks," said Ginny to the air where Minerva had just been. "Merlin, she's fast. Alicia, Angelina, coming?"

-----

Fred and George had no trouble finding the girls Angelina and Alicia had pranked. They were leaning against a wall, giggling weakly, with their eyes somewhat unfocused.

"Come on, midgets, bedtime," George said. "Where's your bedroom?"

"Downstairs?" ventured one of the girls. The rest found this highly amusing.

The twins, both experienced fathers, exchanged a look that said, _Up too late for sure_. "Who wants a ride?" Fred asked.

"Not like the last one?" another girl said.

"No, not like the last one. Just down the stairs and to bed. Everyone hop on." Fred created something resembling a large stretcher. The girls eyed it warily. One of them went up to it and gingerly poked it.

"Why're you so mean?" asked a third girl in a whiny tone. "Why'd you come in here and be so mean? We didn't do nothing."

"Oh, so that wasn't you threatening to make a new girl lick the bathroom floor?" George asked sarcastically. "Or maybe you didn't say you'd lock her up in the closet?"

The girl made a face. "You're still mean. And I don't like you."

"Well, we're just a big dream, so you don't have to like us," said Fred. "You can wake up tomorrow and we'll be gone. And it's time for you to go to bed."

"Why d'we have to go to bed if we're already asleep?" the fourth girl wanted to know.

"So you can wake up, of course," George said, rolling his eyes. "Silly question. Come on, now. Everybody on."

Slowly, the girls climbed on the canvas, the whiner last of all and still looking deeply mistrustful. When they were settled, the twins guided their impromptu bus down the stairs and around the corners to a dorm where three of the beds were still turned down and warm.

George snagged Helen's duffel from her bed while Fred used a quiet Searching Spell to find Marie's belongings and collect them. The girls were already asleep by the time they left.

-----

Down the hall, Charlie had patched up the scrapes of the boys who had run themselves into a wall aiming for Bill and Percy, while Ron restored the clothing of the girls Hermione and Penelope had hexed and (with a little prompting from Hermione) collected Elizabeth Petrov's things. Neither group had needed convincing that it would be a good idea to go to bed, and all of them were deeply asleep, worn out by a combination of stress and the late hour, almost before they hit the pillows.

Bill had had to coax the boys Fleur had scared out of the classroom where they'd hidden, but he had done it in the end, and they too were now peacefully asleep. He had seen Gabriel sleeping in his baby seat outside a different classroom nearby, but he had no qualms about leaving his son there. Fleur might enjoy teasing a man to the point of near-madness, as he knew all too well, but she was devoted to him and to their children. If she had left Gabe there, she was nearby enough (and not too deeply involved) to hear him if he cried, and she would panic if Bill took him without telling her.

And, to be honest, he didn't want to disturb her.

Although it might be funny to see her victim's look when he walked in and introduced himself as Fleur's husband.

_No, let her be. She's an expert at this. As expert as Percy and Penny are at paperwork and bureaucracy. _

_Wonder how they're coming?_

-----

Tom Lutch stopped outside his office.

_The light should not be on in there._

_But nothing is going as it should tonight. Why should this be any different?_

He opened the door onto a scene from one of his private nightmares.

One of the identical red-haired men he'd seen so many of around the school, and the dark-curly-haired woman who had informed him coolly that afternoon that she preferred promises to threats, were calmly and professionally going through his files.

_All_ his files. Including the private ones.

From the piles of papers on the floor, they'd been at it for some time.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing?" he yelled.

They both looked at him as if he was mad.

"We're investigating your papers," the man said dryly.

"Yes! Thank you! What I want to know is, _why?_"

"Because you're a child abuser and you shouldn't be allowed to have custody over children," the woman said, slowly, as if she thought he were a bit thick. "I've spoken with one of your professors – Ms. Docson, I believe? – who will be making the necessary arrangements in the morning."

_This has to be a nightmare. _"Necessary arrangements. For what, exactly?"

"For your arrest and removal as Head of this school," said the man smugly. "In fact, I doubt very much whether Goldenrod Academy as you know it will exist tomorrow. We thought it would be prudent to examine your files before we let you know, in case you felt the need to destroy evidence. But there was one thing I wanted to ask you about." He reached into a thick stack of folders and pulled out one unerringly. "This young man, Mr. Prewitts. Justin Prewitts. He has a very interesting letter in his file. When did it come?"

The Headmaster leaned against the wall to steady himself and forced himself to think. "Yesterday – no, two days ago now. It was in with the morning mail, I couldn't figure out how it had come, since there's no stamp, no return..."

"So you opened it," the woman said. "And what did you think?"

"I thought it was obviously written by a bunch of loonies out for kicks. The green ink was a bit of a tip-off..." Lutch trailed off.

"And Minerva wouldn't have known, since standard wait-time on response is three days," the man said musingly to the woman. "They only shorten it up if there's either special interest in the case or if the letter's destroyed..."

"And since this was merely filed, it wouldn't have triggered anything," the woman said, nodding. "We'll have to make sure his mother gets it. We will, of course, be arranging for the children to be transported home safely," she added to Lutch. "We've already started contacting parents and guardians. But we'll leave the rest till morning, everyone needs their sleep."

_Sleep would be nice. Even better if I could wake up and find out this was all a bad dream..._

"Are we interrupting?" asked a cold voice from the door.

"No, we're just leaving," said the woman, pulling a slim stick out of a pocket and waving it at the stacks of folders on the floor. They lifted up and flew neatly back into the filing cabinets, which opened to receive them. "He's all yours."

"Enjoy," the red-haired man added, though Lutch couldn't tell who was being addressed – himself, or the dark-haired, hook-nosed man in the doorway, who stepped aside for the man and woman to leave.

Or possibly it was the enormous wolf that followed the man inside. The wolf which had been a man at the beginning of the night.

_So werewolves really exist, then? I always thought they were supposed to be wild and uncontrollable... maybe he's got this one under his control... what an inspiring thought._

The creature certainly didn't look wild. It was wandering around his office, sniffing at things, and gave a bark that sounded like laughter when it noticed the wallpaper.

"As amusing as your peregrinations undoubtedly are, Moony, our time here is somewhat limited," the dark-haired man said, waving his stick – _wand, probably_ – around in the air to create a comfortable-looking armchair facing Lutch's desk, behind which he was currently collapsed, grateful for his desk chair's armrests. "I suggest you curl up and relax."

The werewolf displayed its tongue in the wizard's direction for a moment, then turned around three times and lay down, eyes fixed disquietingly on Lutch.

"Any questions?" the wizard asked coolly as he took his seat.

"Why are you doing this?" Lutch blurted out, unable to contain himself any longer. All the fear he had felt throughout this night converted itself into rage in one instant. "I find it rather disturbing that you feel you have the right to walk in here and start these... these... terrorist activities! It's – it's awful, it's nauseating! You accuse me of child abuse – look at yourselves! I saw at least one boy who looked like he had a concussion, a group of girls who couldn't even walk – "

"The boy concussed himself running into a wall when one of my brothers-in-law dodged out of his way, and we've fixed him up – he'll be fine," the man said, looking annoyed. "And the girls were no dizzier than they'd be getting off any amusement park ride. All of them are asleep now, and none of them are harmed. As far as they know, this was a particularly strange dream. There will be no physical evidence that it was otherwise. You, on the other hand..."

The man's black eyes narrowed, and suddenly he was more menacing than he had been before, if such a thing were possible. "You are a disgrace to the name of Headmaster. I would love to know how you found your way into this job, how you managed to get into a position of power over children. But it doesn't matter. What matters is that you are disgusting. You harm children with your power – permanently _harm_ them, scar them physically and emotionally, not just give them a scare as we have done."

"It was disciplinary only," Lutch said defensively, hearing the words ring hollow even in his own ears.

"I quote. 'You will be fun to break, won't you.' You said that to a child earlier today."

The werewolf growled.

"You get some kind of _enjoyment_ out of hurting these children. And you encourage them to hurt one another. Bullying is rampant in your school, and you do nothing to stop it. The children we singled out were the ones we had learned were the worst offenders, locking other students in closets and bathrooms, stealing food and personal items – and you did nothing. I find it hard to believe you did not know."

"There will always be some of that in any school," Lutch said faintly. "More here than most, because these kids are troublemakers. Firm discipline is necessary..."

"I agree," the other man said. "Firm discipline is necessary. But most schools and homes maintain discipline without the use of things like _that_." He jerked his thumb at the pile of sticks in the corner. "Most children of the ages represented in your school can be talked to, reasoned with. They are thinking, rational beings. They are not yet adults, but they are not dumb animals either. _And they are damn well not supposed to be abused!_"

Lutch cowered in his chair. His mind had almost ceased to work, instead producing stupid tidbits like _I wonder when he last washed his hair,_ and _that's odd, his eyes look almost green up close..._

The werewolf lifted its nose, sniffing, then leapt up and hurried over, tugging at the wizard's robes and whining.

"What?" the man snapped in a different tone altogether, turning away from Lutch. "Oh. All right." He straightened up, keeping his back to the desk. "I'll be leaving you with Moony now," he said, still in the new tone of voice. "He can let himself out in the morning."

_He sounds more reasonable now. Polite. Almost friendly. _

_What am I thinking? He's leaving me alone with a werewolf!_

"And I wouldn't worry. He hasn't bitten anyone in years."

Lutch couldn't help it. He whimpered.

The werewolf gave a dog-like grin, tongue lolling out, as the wizard sneezed and hurried out of the room.

-----

Harry's eyes were watering so much he could barely see. But he knew the touch on his arm, and the sound of the amused voice.

"Here." A tissue was placed in his hand. "Forgot, didn't you?"

"Yes." Harry blew his nose hard. "They had to pick this as a side effect. Of everything they could have had, it had to be this."

"It's helped you out a few times over the years, hasn't it? All you've had to do is ask after people who had a perpetual head cold."

"That only works when the idiots are too stupid to remember to take them every half-hour," Harry retorted, blotting the tissue across his eyes. "Which, luckily, quite a few of them are. Thank God this improved version never got on the general market. We have enough problems as it is."

"Such as how to deal with a school full of children who need to be gotten safely home?"

"I was thinking more about how to keep your mother from killing my cousin, but that'll do."

"Oh, don't worry, she doesn't want him dead," Ginny said, twining her arm into Harry's. "She wants him to suffer."

"And just what does she plan to do to make him suffer?"

"Well..." Ginny smiled mischievously. "Let's just say she has a plan worthy of someone bigger than herself."

-----

Molly Weasley was quite pleased with the results of her night's work so far.

_I've gotten a weight off my mind; I've been wanting to say all of that to that – woman – for a long time. And I gave her a reminder of what she's behaved like. And then that revolting little boy. Merciful heavens, how he could be Helen's twin I will never know. If he's anything like she says he is, that spell may never lift! _

_So, now I take on my last task of the night._ After this, most of the wizards planned to bed down, taking it in shifts to patrol the school for signs of trouble. Remus was the exception, of course – _but he stays up all night at full moon anyway, he's used to it._

Fleur, who had been the only one unaccounted for after the Quidditch game, had returned to the wizards' home base about ten minutes before Molly had left, cradling Gabriel in her arms and smiling in a deeply satisfied way. Molly suspected there was an extremely stunned young man somewhere in this school, but she had never had any reason to doubt the fidelity of her part-veela daughter-in-law. _Fleur can exhaust a man more without doing one improper thing than most women could with a striptease..._

She shook her head. _Honestly, I'm as bad as the boys,_ she thought. _Keep your mind on your work, Molly. Find the man, curse the man, say your piece, and leave._

_Well, maybe not in that order._

Finding him should be easy. She had looked at the makeshift Map before she left, and it had located him in a ground floor dormitory. She was almost there now.

She knocked at the door. No answer, but she hadn't really expected one.

It was locked, but a quick "_Alohomora_" fixed that. She turned the knob and stepped in.

"What do you want now?" Marcie hissed vehemently, looking up from the bed where Chester seemed to be asleep. "Haven't you done enough?"

Molly ignored them, focusing on Dudley, who seemed to be trying to get away from her without getting out of his chair.

"I don't like you much," she said conversationally. "You tormented my son when you were boys together. You neglected my granddaughter, your own flesh and blood. So I would like to remind you of something that happened when you were eleven, and give you my opinion on it."

Dudley made a strangled squealing noise in his throat as Molly slowly pointed her wand at him.

"Hagrid didn't go nearly far enough," she said contemptuously. "You swine."

She gave the twist and jerk she'd practiced. Dudley squealed again as he experienced what Molly was sure was at least one familiar sensation – a curly, pink pig's tail erupting on his bottom – and one or two he probably wasn't familiar with – specifically, his ears and eyes becoming porcine as well. Although with the eyes, really, there wasn't much visible change.

"The ears will fade in about a week," Molly said, lowering her wand. "And the eyes in two. The tail stays, though, unless you go and get it removed again, which I wouldn't recommend, as this one's charmed to grow back longer every time you do."

"You've ruined our lives," Marcie snarled. "_What can you possibly have to say for yourself?_"

"Two things," Molly responded calmly. "First, your lives are exactly as ruined as you make them. You can always call in sick for a week or two, or take a vacation, or even wear a hat for heaven's sake. You'll look perfectly normal in public – both of you – within a short period of time. And your son's not harmed at all – in fact, people might actually consider him smarter now, though that might be damaging to him once they find out the truth."

Marcie sputtered.

"What's the second thing?" Dudley asked dully, feeling around one of his new ears.

"Good-bye," Molly said evenly, and walked out.

_That was... rather satisfying. Yes, I do believe I enjoyed that._

-----

In the Headmaster's office, Remus Lupin was bored.

_I wonder if he has anything I haven't read?_

He went over to the bookshelf, mostly there for show judging by the dust on most of the contents, balanced himself with his front paws on an upper shelf, and studied the titles, clearly visible to his night-sight.

_Well, I haven't read this one in a while... it'll do._

He pulled the large, hardbound book from the shelf with a paw, and it hit the floor with a thud, making Lutch whimper again.

Remus rolled his eyes and pawed the book carefully open, licking his claw to turn the pages.

_Chapter One. "The hottest day of the summer so far was drawing to a close..."_

-----

(A/N: Any fans of Kraeg001 and his fic "Heir of Gryffindor", which I have occasionally borrowed from, see my bio page... and he is now writing on FanFiction under the name "Quillian". Check him out!

Gyre: I agree... thanks!

Nalini213: Thanks for the idea for what Molly does to Dudley! About the Quidditch game, the team of Harry, Ginny, Fred, George, and Bill beat the team of Minerva, Ron, Charlie, Angelina, and Alicia. Yes, Percy does sound like he got hit with a stray _Civililingua_ and never recovered. As for Fleur... use your imagination.

athenakitty: Yes.

emikae: Thank you, I am flattered!

Lady Cinnibar: Would you be referring to the work of GreenGecko? I'm following it out of curiosity as to where the name comes from... I've been lucky so far in that a friend of mine has graciously allowed me the use of her Favorites list, so I've mostly read the good ones. But I'm sure there's quite a lot of crap. Glad I'm not, in your qualified opinion, part of it.

Stahchild: Extenuating Circumstances is my only Sirius-comes-back fic. My big work (the Resonance/Home At Last universe) I'm trying to keep canon. At least until HBP comes out... ::grins to self:: So you want to know who James Black is... not telling yet! Hah! But it's probably not as exciting as you think it is... just wait for sequel, there will be excitement. And fun. And trouble.

Kraeg001: Dude. Sorry you got axed. Here's hoping...

Annikaya: Thank you for getting it!

LadyRaven13: Oops. Sorry I messed you up. They're looking for Tom Lutch, the Headmaster at Goldenrod.

Borg: Your resistance is futile. I will keep writing.

harryp123: Thanks as always!

Tanydwr: Thank you so much! I had fun thinking that up – my online English-to-Latin translator is my best friend.

Agh. My friends are speculating about "what will happen in the end" in canon. Lanie is floating the "Harry dies" theory and Lizzie's on about Ron. I'm just going to post this and mind my own business...)


	25. At Last

Chapter 25: At Last

" '_If the plant was sent anonymously, how's anyone ever going to find out who did it?' "_

Remus looked up. The light in the office was definitely getting dimmer, even to his wolf sight. _It's almost moonset. I should go._

He closed his book and nosed it over to the bookshelf, leaving it on the floor rather than pick it up with his teeth and risk tearing it. _He can pick it up himself, he's an able-bodied man... I assume..._

He looked over at Tom Lutch, who was still in the position he had started the night in – curled into a fetal ball in the corner. Lutch had been ever so lightly dozing until Remus had moved. Now he was about as on edge as Remus had ever seen anyone.

Remus yawned deliberately, showing off his teeth. Then he play-bowed, lowering his front half to the floor. _Thank you, sir, for the loan of your book, and a most enjoyable night. We must do this again sometime. _

He couldn't help grinning when Lutch swallowed hard and closed his eyes tightly, as though wishing the horrible thing would go away.

_I do believe I shall honor his wish in this case._

He let himself out and trotted through the halls, headed for the room the wizards had appropriated. _A nap for a few hours sounds good..._

_Circe's hair, I'm getting old. I used to be able to stay up all night and still do a full day's work in the morning._

He gave himself a mental shake. _No, I didn't. _

_But I like to think I did._

-----

Molly Weasley had always been able to awaken instantly at even a hint of noise that shouldn't be there. The sound of the door handle turning, in this instance, qualified, since Penelope wasn't due in from her patrol shift for another twenty minutes.

_Ah, of course, Remus is back._ The room was softly lit by several hovering candles of the type used at Hogwarts, allowing her to watch the werewolf pad softly across the room, select a cushion no one was using, and curl up on it, head resting between his front paws.

Although she had identified the sound, Molly felt no need to go back to sleep, instead relaxing against Arthur's side and looking fondly around the room. She had always been an early riser, requiring little sleep – both useful skills for a mother. Now they gave her an opportunity to see a peaceful scene of rest, a rarity for the matriarch of a clan with the size and temperament of the Weasleys.

Fred and Angelina, the longest married of any of her children, were lying back to back in their double bed. If the top sheet had still been covering them, an observer might have thought they cared little about one another, but Fred was a restless sleeper, and Angelina hated being too hot. Between them, they had kicked off the sheet during the night, exposing the fact that they were holding hands in their sleep.

George was also a restless sleeper, but he tended to travel in his sleep rather than just remove the covers. Consequently, Alicia had had to get used to waking up facing her husband's feet. Molly could just see her son's shock of red hair beyond Alicia's ankles, one of which had a hand curled possessively around it.

Bill lay on his back, Fleur's face pillowed on his chest, Gabriel nestled beside them both with one of Fleur's arms over him. Molly had been surprised, perhaps even a bit scandalized, when she had first realized nearly fifteen years before what the lack of bassinets or cribs in Bill's household meant, but none of their three children had smothered, and the twins, at least, seemed like perfectly normal teenagers. It was too early to tell with Gabe, but all the signs were promising.

Percy was lying on his side in a pose that would have looked decidedly odd if Molly hadn't known the other half of it was missing. Penelope cuddled up against him would complete the picture nicely. Molly smiled at her third son. Asleep, he lost all his pomposity, something that only happened to him awake when he was with his children.

Charlie had taken one of the large cushions on the floor instead of making himself a bed and was lying on his stomach, spread-eagled. _It's so obvious he's never married... he's not used to sharing the bed at all. But I suppose it's never too late._

Molly sighed, inwardly scolding herself. _Six of them married off, and you still have to play matchmaker for the seventh, don't you?_

She supposed it was another motherly instinct.

Ron was on his back, snoring; Hermione had draped herself across him at some point during the night. Her head was resting on his shoulder, and she seemed completely oblivious to the noise.

_But she's used to it by now, I'm sure..._

Minerva, a private woman by nature, had curtained off a portion of the room for her own use, and Molly certainly wasn't going to peek.

_So who does that leave?_

_Ah, of course._

Elizabeth Petrov and Marie Elliot were asleep on separate cushions, both curled up on their sides. Helen lay near them, one hand flung out to touch Marie's. Ginny and Harry slept on a cushion next to their daughter, Ginny snuggled into the curve of Harry's body with his arm over her.

_It can be so hard to remember they're grown men and women. I remember so well when they were my babies, my little darlings... _

_But they're still my darlings, of course. Just not so little anymore._

The door handle turned again and Penelope entered, covering a yawn.

"I'm awake, dear, I'll take the last shift," Molly said quietly, sitting up.

"Thank you," Penelope said, smiling gratefully at her. "I must admit I'm..." She yawned again. "...looking forward to a bit more sleep..."

Without further preamble, she shed her outer robe, laying it neatly across the footboard, and slid into bed next to Percy, who shifted over to make room for her without waking up.

Standing and stretching, Molly caught sight of the window. _Sunrise in a few minutes. Which means moonset._

She picked up Fred and Angelina's discarded sheet and gently laid it over the sleeping wolf.

_Every so often his clothes don't survive the change... _

Thinking of Fred reminded her of the last step in the family's master plan. _And since I'm up, and perfectly well qualified, why don't I get started on the things they'll need?_

She went to the table, which had been pushed against the wall to make room for the beds. There, as she had remembered, was a list of everything her children would need to finish off this job with finesse.

_Excellent. All right, start at the top... two Muggle suits – identical, of course..._

-----

It took Tom Lutch almost fifteen minutes to convince himself to uncurl from his cramped pose, and another ten to get the blood flowing to his limbs again so he could stand upright. His mind wanted to ignore everything that had happened during the night, wanted to believe it was all a dream. And he might have been able to manage, had it not been for the two undeniable facts of the wallpaper pattern and the book on the floor.

He might have taken the book out himself, he argued, and forgotten about it. But there was no conceivable way he could have wallpapered his own office in the course of the night and then forgotten about it, and he wouldn't have done it in those colors, anyway. He hated red and gold, always had...

His intercom buzzed. Hastily, he cleared his throat. _Must preserve appearances._

"Yes?" he said, pressing the button.

"Someone here to see you, sir. Name of Wesley. Says he's guardian of Marie Elliot?"

"All right, send him up."

_Elliot? I could have sworn her guardian was female..._

He rummaged through his files.

_Yes, here it is, Elliot, Marie. Guardian, Rebecca Laburnum... nothing about any Wesley. Is this some kind of trick?_

But Mr. George Wesley, redhead though he was, was the soul of sincerity, producing all the necessary papers to prove that he'd been granted guardianship of Marie Elliot, and expressing his regret at the necessity of removing her from the school. His family couldn't afford... the girl would be helpful at home... of course, Mr. Lutch would understand...

_Oh, I understand all right. This is just the beginning. People will be coming all day. Parents, guardians, and then the police..._

"Attention, all doors," he said dully into the intercom, wondering how many times he'd be repeating this speech today, and with what names attached. "A Mr. George Wesley will be leaving the building shortly with Miss Marie Elliot. She has been cleared to go. Thank you."

Mr. Wesley thanked him politely and saw himself out, and Tom Lutch sank back into his chair, seeing the beginning of the end of his life as he knew it.

-----

Marcie Dursley awoke with a start in a strange bed, felt her forehead, and moaned. It hadn't been a dream. It was all real. She and her son and husband were really cursed, being held prisoner in a school full of wizards who wanted God only knew what...

-----

Dudley Dursley opened his eyes slowly. Everything still looked odd. And his hearing was off as well, and his backside itched...

He groaned, remembering in a rush why these things were true. _I was cursed. We were all cursed. _

_And all over that wretched girl..._

-----

Harry knocked on the Dursleys' door.

"Come in," said a wary voice.

He entered. Marcie was sitting on the bed, Dudley leaning wearily against the wall. Chester was still asleep in the other bed.

"What do you want?" she snapped. "Here to gloat?"

"No," Harry said, biting off his anger rising in response to Marcie's. "I was hoping to discuss Helen."

"Let me make something clear to you, Potter," Dudley growled. "My wife and I made a promise. We promised that our daughter would never be a witch. And we intend to keep that promise."

"I intend to help you keep it," Harry said as sincerely as he could manage without sounding stupid.

"You lie," Marcie hissed. "You want Helen, you've said as much."

"Yes, I do want Helen. I want her to be my daughter." Marcie snorted. Harry ignored her. "If she's my daughter, she won't be yours anymore. She won't even be a Dursley anymore. Then you'll have kept your word. Your daughter won't be a witch, because you won't have a daughter."

Dudley appeared to be thinking, something which looked totally unnatural for him.

"We would, of course, take on all her expenses," Harry said casually. "You'd never hear from us again."

The last sentence had a profound effect on both the Dursleys, who went into a whispered conference.

Harry sagged slightly. _Finally, I think I'm getting through. Why couldn't they just have listened yesterday?_

After a few moments, Dudley turned back to Harry. "Fine," he said grudgingly. "You win. We'll sign."

"Thank you," Harry said politely, holding his elation firmly in check.

_Celebrate when you get home. Right now, you need to finalize it._

"If you'd sign here, then, and here and here..."

Dudley signed, then Marcie, in the required sixteen or so places, and the papers were complete, or would be as soon as Percy and Penelope got a hold of them. Harry made sure the ink was dry before folding them. This was one set of papers he did not want to smear.

"Out of curiosity," Marcie said snippily, "would you still have taken her if we hadn't signed?"

Harry counted to ten. Then did it again, backwards.

_Ah, the hell with control. I'll tell them the truth and see how they like it._

"Helen left this school fifteen minutes ago, Mrs. Dursley, in the custody of my brothers-in-law."

Dudley gaped. "She can't have," he protested. "The guards – they stop anyone who's not cleared to leave..."

Harry grinned cockily. "You'd be surprised what magic can do."

And he Disapparated in the presence of the Dursleys for, he hoped, the last time.

-----

Back at the Den, Helen checked her hair in the bedroom mirror.

_It's nice to have my own face back._

The twins had charmed one of their Metamorphmagus Mints to make her look like Marie, dressed them alike, each taken a girl, and left the school by different doors at the same time.

"One final prank, to make sure they don't forget us," Uncle Fred had said.

"But they'll forget anyway," Uncle George had added. "Muggles tend to forget anything they can't understand."

_My parents – no, Mr. and Mrs. Dursley – never understood me. I wonder if they'll forget me?_

She rather hoped they would.

A round of popping noises downstairs heralded the arrival of the rest of the adults. Helen ran down the stairs and into her parents' arms. All the aunts and uncles crowded around to wish her well. Through the open door, she could see Marie sitting on the lawn, teaching some of the littler cousins a clapping game and looking blissfully happy.

"Thank goodness you're back," said Mrs. Figg, coming in looking rather frazzled. "Hermione, Ginny, I think you need to see this..."

Her mum let go of Helen and followed Mrs. Figg into the other room with Aunt Hermione. There was a moment of silence. Then:

"BRIAN SEVERUS WEASLEY!" bellowed Aunt 'Mione.

"SIRIUS NEVILLE POTTER!" shouted her mum.

"COME HERE THIS INSTANT!" they finished in perfect unison.

Helen began to laugh. It was such a perfect way for it to happen.

_Mum's yelling at Sirius. _

_Now I _know_ I'm home._

_Really and truly home._

_Home at last._

**-----**

**THE END**

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(A/N: Sorry for late update, everyone – the homework monsters ate me. But I beat them up from inside, and here I am, ready for anything!

Well, maybe not anything. Please don't hurt me for finishing this – it just seemed like a good place to end. As I promised, there will be a sequel (working title: School at Last – thanks, Craig!) but I have to come up with an idea for it first! I have several nebulous plans, but no definite plot line yet, so please bear with me! After all, wouldn't you rather have it a little later but good?

Thanks to all my wonderful reviewers! Please, please, give my other stuff a try! I write the same way in everything, so if you like my style, it's at least worth a shot, right?

athenakitty: Not really – if you take a reverser Mint in time, you avoid the sneezes, and it helps the Aurors out, so F&G have been requested to leave the Mints as they are. Yes to the other three.

Nalini213: Yes, he is... he's the grandson of her second cousin, whatever that's called. In other words, the son of Mafalda, the Weasley cousin who never made it into book 4. In my 'verse, she just didn't have quite enough magic to merit a Hogwarts letter... but her son does! Love borrowing ideas from JKR! And I'm counting on their unwillingness to admit to having such strange dreams to keep it under wraps. Thanks!

Lady Cinnibar: Thanks for the recommend, and the compliments!

Little Lioness: Congratulations on being my only reviewer to spot the origin of that quote!

blueJosh, Annikaya, Tanydwr, bubbatoo, Gyre, jbfritz, harryp123, RunningInCircles: Thank you all so much!

And now for something completely different...

Borg: I was going to give you a detailed answer, but then I decided it would be a waste of my and my readers' time. If you ever deign to give me contact information, I will be glad to respond to you in depth. For the record, let me state that I deleted your review because it was: (a) neither helpful nor original – all you had to say was that you disliked my work, which you had already stated in your first review, and that you disliked me, which seems obvious; and (b) insulting to another of my reviewers, which I will NOT tolerate. Thank you for your input, and have a nice day.

And, just so we don't end on a grouchy note, I have... (drumroll, please) a **Home At Last Trivia Challenge** for all you lucky readers out there! Scan the story to find the answers, then put them in a review or e-mail them to me, either is fine! Special mentions for all who attempt, and a character name in School at Last for the first five scores of 80 percent or higher!

**Home At Last Trivia Challenge**

1. What Weasley Wheeze did Helen once use to scare Chester?

2. Who was the first person ever to give Helen a real hug?

3. Does Helen have any blood first cousins?

4. Who gave Helen her wristwatch?

5. Find the direct allusion to OotP in Chapter 10.

6. How old were Helen and Ruby when they broke into the twins' workroom?

7. Why were Ron's brothers annoyed with him when the poker game resumed?

8. Who gave Helen good advice about fear?

9. What is the significance of Fleur's wallpaper design?

10. Who is Fleur and Bill's youngest son named after?

**Extra Credit! **

1. In Chapter 9, in an allusion to the movie "Robin Hood: Men in Tights", what does Ron cough into his hand?

2. In Chapter 21, what is the other "Men in Tights" allusion?

3. Find the source of the quote that opens Chapter 25.

Good luck, everyone! See you all soon!)


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